• 


POEMS™PACIFIC 


THE  WEST'S  REPLY  TO  ENGLAND'S  LAUREATE 


VENIER  VOLDO 


AUTHOR  OF      A  SONG  OF  AMERICA"  AND  MINOR  LYRIC3 


OF  THf 

SECOND  EDITION. 


SAN  FRANCISCO 
THE    BANCROFT   COMPANY 

1888 


Copyrighted,  1888. 


TO 

CLARA  FOLTZ 

THE  PORTIA  OP  THE  PACIFIC 

Who,  filling  many  niches  in  the  Pantheon  of  Life,  has  adorned 
them  all  with  a  lofty  womanhood 

THIS  VOLUME   IS  ADMIRINGLY    INSCRIBED 
BY 

THE  AUTHOR 


134824 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

DEDICATION 3 

PREFACE 7 

MY  LORD  THE  LAUREATE 9 

SPENCERIAN-  IMPRESSIONS. 

I.     Ave  Parnassides 21 

II.     Sun  and  Storm  in  the  Coast  Range 22 

III.  Poesis 23 

IV.  Shoshone  Falls , 23 

V.     Pacific 24 

VI.     Religio  Naturalis 25 

VII.     Youth  and  Ambition 26 

VIII.     UO,  Woman's  Eyes" 27 

SONNETS. 

I.     Sappho 29 

II.     Byron 30 

III.  Lincoln 30 

IV.  Woman 31 

V.     Freedom 31 

VI.     To  Anne 32 

VII.     To  Festus 32 

VIII.     Night 33 

SONGS  AND  BALLADS. 

"How  Brightly  on  the  Laughing  River" 37 

For  an  Album 38 

"If  a  Man  Stand  Up  to  the  Storm  Like  a  Man" 38 

"Swift  May  the  Tune  of  Spring" 39 

Psa'm  of  Courage 40 

"O,  Whence  the  Delight  of  Thy  Face" 42 

Mignon 43 

"Thy  Wrongs  Have  Made  Thee  Sacred"  44 

Love's  Omnipresence 45 

"Sweet  Memories  of  Other  Days" 46 

"O,  With  a  Light  Heart  and  a  Merry" 47 

Ma  Belle 48 

"Not  All  the  Strings  that  Thrill  with  Fire" 49 

Mv  Love's  the  Life 50 

(5) 


6  CONTENTS 

PAGE 

SONGS  AND  BALLADS. — (Continued.) 

Thine  Eyes 51 

'You  Have  Said  the  Charmed  Words" -  52 

'O,  Hope  Lift  Up  Thy  Weary  Wings" 53 

Tain  Would  I  Tell" 54 

'Call  Not  The  Promise  Vain" 55 

'Let  Us  Be  Conscious  How  Happy  We  Are" ...  56 

Look  up,  Poor  Heart 56 

'Fine  Was  His  Voice  Whose  Ruddy  Lip" , 57 

'If  Dreams  Have  Tongues" 59 

'Cease  Thy  Tremulous  Plaint" 59 

MISCELLANEOUS. 

Sierra's  Good-Night  to  the  Sun  God 63 

Clara  Foltz,  Jurist— Mother— Woman 66 

Hymn  to  the  Calm  Night 67 

Good-speed  to  Men 71 

Yolonde  with  the  Yellow  Hair ; 72 

The  Ministry  of  Nature.  ... 75 

Birth-song  of  Aphrodite 78 

Seven  Sisters 81 

"Ah,  For  The  Day  That  Has  No  Voice" 85 

Juliette 86 

"I  Saw  Thee  and  I  Loved  Thee" , 87 

The  Comedy  of  Evil 89 

Aphroditis — A  Passion  Monody 91 

The  Muse  Humanity 97 

Venus  Urania .7. 98 

In  Memoriam — Henry  Wadsworth  Longfellow 1U1 

The  Changes  of  the  Shell 105 

Ode  to  Columbia 109 

A  Lament  for  Childe  Harold f 117 

Thy  Naked  Feet 124 

The  Garden  of  the  Sea — A  Re  very  on  the  Birth  of  California 126 

Gloria  Militaire l;>0 

"Come!" 132 

Memoria  in  Eterna 133 

Walt  Whitman 136 

For  Woman's  Sake 139 

"Through  the  Rays  Serene" 140 

Shasta 141 

Contemplation  on  the  Uxmal  Ruins 142 

The  Wasting  of  the  Flowers 144 

"Where  Rolls  the  Oregon" 149 

Yosemite 151 

Lyric  of  Labor— Upharsin  is  Writ  on  the  Wall! 152 

A  TRINODY. 

Abelard  and  Heloise 155 

Antony  and  Cleopatra 157 

Paola  and  Francesca 159 

"The  Birth  of  Song" 165 


PREFACE. 

The  vrih'ng  of  tuch  a  poem  as  the  second  Lockeley  Hall,  is 
something  more  than  a  literary  blunder ;  it  is  a  sin  against  civiliza 
tion.  There  were  limits,  it  would  seem,  to  the  ^unprogressive 
dotage  of  even  octogenarianhood;  but  the  conservative  cynicism 
of  Carlyle  and  Tennyson  proves  that  "  reversion  "  may  sometimes, 
indeed,  "drag  evolution  in  the  mud."  What  muffled  adieus  are 
these  as  contrasted  with  the  sublime  farewells  of  Sophocles,  Simon- 
ides,  Chaucer,  Goethe,  and  Longfellow? 

In  the  work  before  us  the  author  condemns  a  world  he  refuses 
to  understand.  The  mighty  facts  that  breathe  and  burn  about  us 
touch  not  a  muse  whose  loftiest  flight  insults  the  spirit  of  the  age. 
The  light-bringers  of  the  century  bear  no  torch  for  him.  Science 
is  busy  only  with  the  new  astronomy,  which  discovers  the  moon 
to  be  dead,  but  not  with  home-building  for  the  living  millions  of 
the  earth,  nor  with  the  new  chemistry  of  human  happiness. 
"Poor  old  history  "  finds  good  not  in  the  present,  where  it  is,  but 
in  the  past,  where  it  is  not.  The  poet's  later  vision  is  all  too  narrow 
to  perceive  the  glorious  indices  which  are  making  history  grander 
than  itself;  philanthropy,  with  love's  lamp  searching  out  the 
haunts  of  the  wretched ;  legislation,  seeking  to  be  humane  and  just, 
protecting  the  weak,  enlightening  the  dark,  uplifting  the  oppressed ; 
politics,  exalting  and  expanding  civilization;  letters,  reaching 
after  hope,  and  strength,  and  joy;  science,  discovering  the  unity 
and  completion  of  the  race. 

But  not  for  the  poet-peer  to  "  Live  into  a  gentler  time."  For  him 
no  "suffrage  of  the  plow, "  no  "federation  of  the  world."  He 
forgets  that  social  problems  have  always  vexed,  but  that  a  brave 
age  will  solve  them  bravely.  He  perceives  not  that  the  present  is 
a  protest  against  "petrified  old  forms,  tyranny,  and  the  devil;" 
and  that  out  of  its  seething  and  agitation  new  forms  will  arise  into 
larger  liberty,  higher  achievement,  supremer  happiness. 


•    PEERAGE 

The  age,  true  enough,  discovers  shameful  defaults,  and  man  im 
proves  too  slowly  for  his  aspirations.  But  our  laureate  spends  hia 
force  in  idle  lamenting,  vain  regret,  wasteful  blame.  He  denies 
remedy,  lihels  liberty,  denounces  equal  rights,  debilitates  courage, 
ignores  the  forward  movement  of  the  nations,  discourages  the 
onward  hope  of  the  world. 

What  has  the  race  done  to  my  Lord  the  Laureate,  who  like 
Seneca  writes  about  poverty  on  tables  of  gold,  and  who  with  never 
a  sorrow  of  his  own,  might  better  employ  his  muse  in  solacing  and 
strengthening  the  world,  rather  than  in  deepening  its  shadows? 
The  writer  of  these  fragmentary  lines— written  in  wide  apart 
interludes  of  duty  and  always  beneath  the  pall  of  torturesome 
care — might  with  far  more  consistency  pose  as  a  pessimist.  Such 
a  luckless  AVandering  Jew  to  whom  life  has  denied  even  the 
privilege  of  finding  out  whether  he  could  write  verses  or  not,  has 
earned  some  right  to  condemn  the  world  and  riot  in  its  hopolessuess. 
But  how  does  such  an  one.  deeply  lettered  in  the  iron  alphabet  of 
experience,  find  more  to  praise  than  to  blame  in  the  black  earth, 
more  to  inspire  a  psean  than  a  lamentation  ?  Life  is  largely  what 
we  make  of  it ;  and  there  is  one  cowardice  to  look  back  from  the 
plow,  and  one  heroism  to  look  up  and  on.  Verily,  the  world  moves 
despite  its  laureates ;  and  he  who  will  not  help  it  on  writh  a  word 
of  brave  cheer  is  its  enemy  and  not  its  friend. 

THE  AUTHOR. 


MY  LORD  THE  LAUREATE 


SIXTY  YEARS  AFTER 

Cold  upon  the  silent  Cellyne  creep  the  leaden  hours  along, 
Dead  the  Nestor  of  the  ancient,  dead  the  singer,  and  the  song. 

Hath  the  old  no  dying  courage,  shall  its  doing  be  undone? 
Dead  to-night,  re-born  to-morrow ;  deathless  glory  of  the  sun ! 

O,  deathless  man ;  the  dust  is  quick  here  where  mighty  Hermes  lay ; 
Resigned  the  sceptre  of  December  to  the  magic  wand  of  May. 

O,  golden  Nestor,  say  what  word  may  still  the  babble  of  your  boy  ? 
Learn  you  of  olden  folly,  child,  of  the  folly  of  old  Troy. 

When  Heaven  and  earth, when  Gods  and  men,  invoked  the  seas  and  skies, 
And  a  world's  glory  rose  and  set  within  a  woman's  eyes. 

The  boyhood  of  the  new  has  come;  lo,  the  old  had  boyhood  too; 

Both  plod  in  gloom  of  the  vile  ani  false  for  pearls  of  the  good  and  true. 

Both  in  life's  troubled  ethics  versed  would  evolve  the  higher  man, 
Awed  by  the  wealth  of  mystery  in  the  Planner  and  the  Plan: 

The  one  wild  tale  of  life  in  death,  of  joy  out  of  wreck  and  rack, 

Great  Hector  plunged  in  the  hell  of  war  from  the  heaven  of  Andromache. 

(9) 


10  POEMS  FROM  THE  PACIFIC 

The  one  fierce  tale  of  coming  man,  coming  but  never  yet  come : 
Dumb  at  the  first  as  beast  or  bird,  and  to-day  but  the  lesser  dumb. 

Crude  at  the  first  as  slime  of  sea  ere  she  bore  on  her  waited  breast,  . 
The  gift  of  Woman,  the  gift  of  Power  and  gift  of  Love's  unrest. 

Yea,  come  you  hither,  boy  indeed;  your  love  was  a  shrew  and  client : 
How  far  have  you  been  undone  in  the  base  Olympia  of  deceit? 

Her  sister,  you  knew,  had  wed  a  churl,  and  unwed  without  a  sigh, 
Two  fools  conspired  with  wise  old  Time  to  woo  and  marry  a  lie ! 

And  you?  well,  life  hath  its  cross,  alas,  tho'  yours  is  no  daep  sea  rage  ; 
You  have  survived  to  be  later  lost  in  the  chaff-heaps  of  the  age. 

And  your  curse  is  not  a  weightier  thin.;  than  e'en  your  worldling's  lau^h : 
The  age  is  greedy  enough,  but  has  no  monopoly  of  chaff. 

For  once  was  there  irony  of  joy  in  Babylonia's  hall, 

Riot  was  writ  on  the  hearts  of  men  and  Upharsin  on  the  wall. 

For  once  a  Lord  of  Laughter  lived;  the  Aristophanic  ryme, 
Who  sung  of  "Birds"  and  "Clouds"  and  "Wasps"  and  "Vanities"  of  his 
time. 

Then  the  comic  anger  Plautus  roared  and  the  slave  Terentius  raved, 
The  Ambubabaes  hymns  of  hell  that  the  lash  of  Lucian  braved. 

The  chaff  of  Eternal  Rome,  alas,  and  the  purple  Caesar's  strife, 

Lo,  Juvenal  and  his  furious  scorn  of  their  games  of  "dice"  and  life ! 

Apicius,  drunk  on  wine  of  pearls  drained  to  the  very  lees, 
Paulina  in  her  jeweled  dress  of  forty  million  sesterces ! 


MY  LORD  THE  LAUREATE  11 

0,  age  of  gorgeous  criminals  whose  lips  at  their  great  slaves  curled, 
When  royal  robbers  rode  unmasked  through  the  highways  of  the  world. 

0,  vain  dead  froth  of  human  ways,  O,  frailty  base  and  bare, 
Or  whence  Cervantes  biting  wit,  or  contempt  of  fierce  Voltaire  ? 

So  in  each  throbbing  round  of  Time  since  the  sage  began  as  boy, 
Lovers  are  false  and  fools  are  mad  and  mystery  is  a  toy ! 

And  wizard  man  is  small  and  great  and  marriage  is  great  and  small, 
The  ages  swing  'twixt  love  and  hate  for  the  hope  that  passeth  all. 

For  the  hope  and  miracle  of  light  that  beams  from  Beauty's  face, 
And  health  and  strength  and  mighty  joy  and  maje  ^ty  of  the  race. 

0,  hush  not  the  Forward !  Forward !   't  is  the  cry  of  life  to  be, 

What  death  is  there  whose  voices  ring  from  thy  grave,  O  Thermopylae  ? 

The  Knighthood  of  the  world  is  sought  and  the  manhood  of  the  slave, 
The  conquest  of  despair  and  death  and  victory  of  the  grave ! 

In  truth  a  cruel  yesterday :  great  Egypt  graveward  flings 

Her  children's  hapless  bones  up-piled  as  monuments  to  ber  kings. 

And  cold  the  shuddering  wings  of  night,  the  barbarian's  sunless  swarth ; 
The  roses  of  the  West  adorn  the  skeleton  of  the  North  J 

And  thou,  O  royal  beast,  O  Home ;  behold  your  gladiators  slay ; 
Self  butchery  of  valiant  men  to  make  your  whelps  a  holiday ! 

The  air  is  hushed  and  hops  is  still,  and  still  the  Christian  martyrs  there ; 
Red  the  arena's  ghastly  sands— it  is  only  a  savage  lair ! 


12  POEMS  FROM  THE  PACIFIC 

And  lo,  Siberia's  spectre  grim,  the  Cremara's  purple  snout, 

The  Swine-kings  reign  by  grace  of  God  and  heraldry  of  the  knout ! 

Yea,  read  the  wide  world's  annals  well,  illumined  with  blood  and  gall, 
Where  Chaos  is  king  and  Woe  is  man,  while  Crime  holds  carnival. 

Yea,  old  Experience  is  wise  because  a  fool  the  day  before ; 

Creeds,  superstitions,  arms,  have  each  accursed  men  with  their  score. 

No  more  the  wisdom  of  the  past  than  its  folly  is  our  friend ; 
What  not  to  do  the  legacy  exalting  an  endless  end. 

Break !  break !  indeed,  the  olden  State,  dead  church  and  barren  throne ! 
Their  echoes  shudder  adown  the  years,  dead  echo  of  a  groan ! 

And  "  roll  their  ruins  down  the  slope ;"  the  ashes  of  night  and  rage, 
Time  has  found  his  goldenest  fruit,  an  emancipated  age. 

"  Poor  old  History !"  Tale  of  Sorrow !  States  undone  'twixt  Dis  and  Mars ; 
But  for  Greed  "  the  globe  we  groan  in  "  might  be  fairest  of  all  stars. 

"  Poor  old  Heraldry ; "  empty  glamour !  blindly  leading  blinded  men ! 
Old  political  lack  of  sense  forever  mocks  the  might  have  been ! 

Whilom  sang  a  youthful  singer,  neither  Lord  nor  Laureate ; 
Silver  and  rose  life's  morning  time,  and  golden  its  last  estate. 

Silver  of  faith  and  gold  of  hope,  voice  of  the  coming  not  the  gone ; 
"The  glad  earth  should  not  stand  agaze  like  Joshua's  moon  at  Ajalon," 

But  talk  a  tiptoe  with  the  stars  enamored  of  the  beck'ning  view, 
Science  with  her  magic  lamps  and  fairy  mansions  of  the  new. 


MY  LORD  THE  LAUREATE 


Lit  by  the  happy  eyes  of  love,  O,  swift  the  hero  history  ran, 
The  oracles  of  space  declared  the  sovereign  destiny  of  man. 

High  his  meridian  of  fame,  then  backward  bent  his  fair  renown, 
The  regal  singer  of  a  race,  the  herald  only  of  a  crown. 

The  little  boasts  of  what  has  been  hush  the  prophetic  great  to  be, 
The  old  Throne  sets  its  craft  to  rhyme  emblazoned  in  weird  royalty. 

And  vacant  pageants  of  the  Past  pose  shimmering  in  idle  trance, 
The  Roco-Cupid  scorn  of  fact  the  folly-fever  of  Romance. 

"Wan  Melancholy's  empty  wail,  powdered  wiggery  and  Watteau, 
Strength  create  to  build  and  bless  a- waste  in  emptiness  of  woe. 

Thus  doubtingly  with  sombre  strings  the  Poet  sang  unto  the  sage ; 
The  doleful  aftertone  of  harps  imprisoned  in  the  middle  age. 

Sang  of  the  dust  of  Chivalry  and  mediaeval  dust  of  pride, 

The  splendors  of  the  feudal  day  but  not  the  shame  of  which  it  died. 

The  Golden  Ass  Apuleius  and  dizzy  pleasures  that  he  clomb, 
Not  of  the  wronged  plebeian  mob,  the  naked  Nineveh  of  Rome. 

Of  garters,  crests  and  golden  mail,  ribboned  scarf  and  falcon  lore, 
When  men  like  birds  of  bonnet  fame  were  known  by  plumages  they  wore. 

Tarna  bells  of  jesting  odalisquos,  a  satin  and  patchouly  line, 
Adopti  having  charmed  of  fate  a  special  charter  to  be  fine. 

Soft  echoes  of  the  goad  old  timo  when  lofty  barons  for  a  show 
Coinel  laughter  out  of  human  want  and  minstrelsy  of  human  woe. 


14  POEMS  FROM  THE  PACIFIC 

Such  was  the  alphabet  of  air,  Elvish  sheen  and  cruel  tears, 

By  which  the  singing  courtier  learned  the  argument  of  mighty  years. 

Such  the  "  Hail  Caesar  "  of  a  muse  attuned  in  an  immortal  school ; 

The  weak  shall  kiss  their  plunderers,  the  robbers  of  mankind  shall  rule  J 

And  take  no  "suffrage  of  the  plow;"  what  wills  have  these  except  to 

yield? 
Annointed  heirs  of  stolen  power  hear  not  "the  voices  from  the  field! " 

Enough  for  these  when  danger  threats  to  gather  from  their  busy  hives. 
And  save  their  country  with  their  blood,  and  shield  their  princess  with 
their  lives. 

IH  this  your  "  wholesome  old  world  dust  "  before  the  newer  shall  begin? 
"  Noises  of  a  current  narrowing :  "     Yours  is  the  lawless  din  ! 

War  and  blood  those  fancy  most  who  hive  no  drop  of  blood  to  give ; 
Half  a  million  minions  perish  that  a  useless  prince  may  live. 

Nay,  not  from  gray  thoughts  such  as  these  shall  men  arise  with  lofty  cheer ; 
The  Prophet  bowed  to  gilded  dust,  the  poet  fallen  to  the  peer. 

Lo !  here  reversion !  here  Death's  song,  the  long  disease  of  selfish  blood. 
Here  the  falsehood  "ever  dragging  Evolution  in  the  mud ;" 

When  great  poets  sing  small  themes,  then  indeed  the  angels  weep ; 
Ghosts  of  fickle  dreams  that  slumber,  ghosts  of  promises  tint  sle3p. 

Chaos  Cosmos !  Hasten  backward !  Vice  is  clammoring  in  the  street, 
The  higher  ag3  perceives  it  clearer,  therefore  let  us  sound  retreat ! 

Zola  pois'ning  maiden  fancies,  boyhood  feeding  from  the  sewer, 
Never  age  SD  crammed  with  madness  and  the  leprosies  that  lure. 


MY  LORD  THE  LAUREATE  15 

Why,  then,  sing  a  fiftieth  matin  glorying  your  sovereign's  name  ? 
Rather  chant  a  lamentation  or  a  vesper  hymn  of  shame ! 

Peace !  Peace !  O  poet,  lame  and  old,  passing  on  into  the  nightf 

The  lamp  of  your  ideal  youth  would  give  your  lame  feet  better  light. 

Before  that  fatal  passion's  fire  sweeping  through  had  left  you  dry, 
"Left  you  with  a  palsied  heart  and  left  you  with  a  jaundiced  eye." 

Before  the  couriers  of  the  mind  searched  out  the  old  dead  lie  of  things, 
To  gild  the  praise'of  feudal  crime  and  the  apology  of  kings. 

Before  your  hopa  wingad  with  the  morn  and  faith  with  olive  leaves  un 
furled, 
Had  lost  their  Eden  for  mankind,  their  hallelujah  for  the  world. 

When  with  joyance  bounding  upward  you  embraced  the  newer  day ; 
"Better  fifty  years  of  Europe  than  a  cycle  of  Cathay !" 

Chaos  Cosmos !  Downward  beckon !  let  the  iron  hearted  earth, 
Reach  its  man-subliming  summit,  ranging  backward  to  its  birth ! 

O,  graceless  vain  philosphy  of  spent  and  of  outrun  years ! 
Stay  not  the  winged  soul !  feast  not  on  husks  of  wars  and  fears ! 

[O  Peace !  chill  minstrelsy  of  self;  hymns  of  "I"  and  "my"  and  "mine," 
Sing  now  the  kinship  of  the  "our"  and  the  harmony  of  the  Nine ! 

The  universal,  dazzling  dream !  Fraternity  at  Cosmic  feast ! 
Accursed  the  polity  that  bears  the  future  symbols  of  the  beast ! 

Marks  of  the  dragon  of  the  pit !  loud  bellowing  for  Self  and  Self ! 

Not  rights  for  all  that  suffer  wrong,  but  rights  for  Ghibbeline  or  Cue! ph. 


16  POEMS  FROM  THE  PACIFIC 

Poet,  Statesman,  teacher,  friend,  O  heed  ye  that  divinest  call, 
Comradeship  for  every  being,  "all  for  each  and  each  for  all." 

Why  chant  ye  of  outspent  forces  of  dead  Shem  and  Ham  and  8cth» 
What  a  great  man  failed  in  doing  sixty  winters  after  death  ? 

Shades  of  Sophocles  and  Goethe !  must  a  muse  at  eighty  sing 
Gladliest  of  a  boy  that  babbles,  and  Narcissus  at  the  spring? 

And  to-day !  hath  she  not  smallness !  Yea,  and  shame  and  bitter  wro  ig? 
What  mortal  curses  crouch  and  blend  through  her  comedy  of  song? 

The  Sepoy  mocked  the  age's  boast  and  died  at  the  cannon's  mouth; 
Infernally  re-echo  still  the  crumbling  chains  of  the  south. 

There  are  sons  of  toil  for  whose  poor  sakes  the  gold  sun  hardly  shines> 
Maimed  and  wasted  and  worn  away  at  their  cattle  work  in  mines. 

But  the  century  is  shocked  and  shamed  at  sight  of  waste  and  crime, 
And  scorn  of  men  for  a  monster  born  is  the  measure  of  our  time. 

And  hatef  ulness  of  the  blind  mad  beast  is  less  in  the  wide  world's  store, 
But  fire  of  the  living  jewel  of  love  is  a  sparkle  more  and  more. 

And  less  and  less  is  the  black  night's  dark  and  more  is  the  red  of  day, 
Kindlier,  juster  and  nobler  now  the  van  that  leads  the  way. 

Stars  have  risen  and  set,  but  the  light  of  the  freed  mind  is  our  ttar, 
Lincoln,  Gladstone  and  Emerson,  Renan  and  Castelar ! 

Pilots  not  of  purple  twilight,  heralds  of  the  rising  san ! 

For  Truth  shall  yet  be  uppermost  and  justice  ehall  yet  be  done ! 


MY  LORD  THE  LAUEEATE  17 

And  Forward !  Forward !  cry  aloud !  for  the  People's  age  has  come, 
The  noble  discontent  of  men  refusing  to  be  dumb ! 

Kings  once  owned  the  State  and  its  joy  was  a  royal  jest  and  fling ; 

The  Kingdom  of  Right  has  come  to  reign,  the  people  now  own  the  King ! 

And  my  Lord  is  equal  with  his  kind,  if  my  Lord  be  as  tried  and  true  : 
The  rank  of  man  emblazons  the  shield  of  the  good  he  dares  to  do. 

Kings  of  Honor!  these  are  Kings !  this  the  first  kingdom  of  earth's  sands; 
Yea,  verily,  earth's  proper  Lords  are  the  * 'Lords  of  their  own  hands." 

And  woe  for  our  Medean  asps  and  our  ingrate  Regan  worms, 
But  the  Cosmic  womb  fails  never  a  day  with  her  diviner  germs 

And  sweet  Cordelia's  bloom  for  us  with  perfume  of  nun-like  love, 
Spartan  mothers  bear  heroes  still,  the  strength  and  the  fire  thereof. 

There  were  sounds  of  breaking  of  slave  chains  amid  war's  rumbling  chant, 
The  sea  forth  gave  its  Farragut  and  the  shore  gave  forth  its  Grant. 

So  hold  not  the  Onward  Present,  "  fatal  daughter  of  the  Past," 
Evolution !  not  Reversion !  Man  the  victory  at  last ! 

Rehearse  the  Muse  of  Yesterday  and  inspire  illustrious  deeds, 
But  let  no  maxim  voice  for  man  the  measure  of  his  needs. 

The  feathered  heels  of  Mercury  are  a  snail's  pace  with  his  shell, 
Beside  the  fire  of  Edison  and  the  flash  of  Morse  and  Bell. 

Freedom  that  is  Progress,  Selah !  let  the  lustral  soul  inquire ! 
Science  clear  the  field  for  Music !  Lift  the  poet-vision  higher ! 

(2) 


13  POEMS  FROM  THE  PACIFIC 

Fuse  with  what  is  truly  Hellenic,  fired  with  high  creative  power, 
Moulding  states  to  light  and  beauty,  lead  them  to  their  loftiest  hour. 

Through  the  dust  of  dying  races  an  eternal  sequence  runs ; 
Conjures  silent  Life  new  changes  for  the  conquest  of  the  suns. 

You  have  gazed  on  great  Orion  sloping  slowly  to  the  west ! 
<Tis  the  track  of  Aryan  glory  to  the  crown  of  Aryan  rest. 

Not  the  twilight  West  of  Apap  nor  St.  Brandon's  shadowy  isle, 
Where  Sun-heroes  quench  their  glory  in  a  greater  than  a  Nile. 

Across  the  path  of  desert  sea  or  ghostly  Acheron  of  seas 
Shine  in  paradisal  sunset  groves  of  the  Hesperides. 

Not  the  dead's  home,  but  the  living's ;  else  re-born  the  Orient  dead, 
Freed  Odysseus  bounding  Sunward  from  the  Hades  that  he  fled. 

Zone  of  Earth's  supremest  power  and  Thought's  most  luminous  estate, 
Forward  from  the  Yellow  Sea,  and  Sunward  to  the  Golden  Gate. 

War  has  sung  its  grand  Iliads,  gone  the  Aryan  voice  of  Greece, 
And  the  westward  race  is  listening  for  the  Odysseys  of  peace. 

Feudal  pomp  has  piped  its  story,  lords  and  kings  and  popes  are  sung; 
Mother  of  Life,  now  sing  of  Freedom !  the  Immortal,  ever  young  I 
r 

Sing  of  Freedom !  Sing  of  Forward !  Lo !  a  braver  race  is  born 
With  song  and  sight  and  summer— golden  monarchy  of  Morn! 

Sing  emancipated  Woman !  let  not  Justice  stop  at  sex ! 

O.  eternal  Sphinx !  what  marvel  that  your  riddles  mock  and  vex ! 


MY  LORD  THE  LAUREATE  19 

When  the  dual  Mind  of  races,  male  and  female,  blend  in  one, 
Then  and  only  will  thought  triumph  crowned  with  halo  of  the  sun! 

Then  and  only  codes  be  wisest  and  the  people  glad  and  great, 
When  all  gifts  of  mind  are  garnered  to  the  glory  of  the  State. 

When  the  mind  and  heart  are  wedded,  when  the  Statesman  and  the  Sage 
Comrade  with  great  souled  Aspasias,  then  begins  the  Golden  Age ! 

-When  the  people's  kingdoms  flourish  and  not  when  republics  fall, 
Will  men  find  their  high  ideals  "  all  for  each  and  each  for  all." 

Unity  of  -man !    Life's  marriage !     Sovereignty  to  build  and  bind ; 
Not  Indo-European  oneness,  but  the  oneness  of  mankind ! 

• 
0,  fate  compelling  Hope !  O,  Friend,  that  would  not  have  release, 

0,  Love,  balm-bringer  unto  man,  sweet  Olive  of  his  peace, 

What  couriers  of  heaven  are  these  that  comforteth  high  and  low, 
Sweet  healers  of  man's  wretched  health,  swift  winged  in  search  of  woe. 

What  emperors  of  Earth  are  these  by  nature  royal  born, 
Far  listening  with  gentle  ears  for  the  cry  of  those  that  mourn. 

The  Earth  is  but  an  infancy !  and  man  its  later  marvel-joy. 
Babe  of  a  very  babe  is  he — to-morrow  will  he  be  boy ! 

And  one  day  man,  indeed,  and  lord  of  Life's  democracy  of  law, 

In  rhythmic  balance  with  all  things,  star-browed  and  calm  with  awe. 

And  tame  leviathan  shall  list  and  sea's  finny  beasts  obey, 
Boreas  pause  stone  still  to  hear  what  the  new  god  hath  to  say, 


20  POEMS  FROM  THE  PACIFIC 

And  the  New  Chemistry  shall  come,  all  quick  with  Cosmic  breath, 
To  unlock  and  warm  the  icy  North  and  cool  the  tropics  of  Death, 

Reclaim  the  deserts  of  the  earth  with  intense,  life-giving  throes, 
Bobbed  nature's  wastes  make  green  again  and  blossom  as  the  rose. 

Age  of  fair  Science  and  sweet  calm !    Image-breaking  age  of  Sense ! 
Light  and  Leader  come  at  last  to  herald  Love's  omnipotence ! 

O,  door  of  the  uplifted  Muse !    Science !    Teacher !    Key  of  Life ! 
Release  the  diadems  of  Strength  from  out  the  crucible  of  strife. 

Finder  thou  of  Life's  good  mother,  fount  and  breath  of  human  good, 
Wake  our  universal  kinship,  warm  our  universal  blood. 

With  gravity's  slight  silken  chains  link  the  endless  worlds  of  space, 
And  man  with  every  rhyme  of  all  the  ages  of  his  race. 

Cast  out  the  curse  of  tyranny  and  cruel  greed's  alloy, 
Let  all  men  see  the  Cosmic  sun  and  feel  the  Cosmic  joy. 

Lift  up  the  sweat-gemmed  brow  of  toil  and  arouse  endeavor's  pride, 
The  whole  earth  should  man's  Eden  be,  and  Beauty  all  men's  Bride. 

And  with  kind  hands  unite  true  hearts  and  inspire  where  heroes  fail, 
Twine  laurel  of  the  Apennine  with  parsley  of  the  Vale. 

The  noblest  of  us  all  is  he  who  finds  deepest  wounds  to  bind : 
Not  latest  Lord  of  Locksley  Hall  but  latest  lover  of  his  kind. 


SPENCERIAN  IMPRESSIONS 


AVE  PARNASSIDES 

Hail  burning  breath  of  genius  and  of  wit ! 
The  radiant  electricity  of  thought ! 
As  Deity  had  will'd  and  Fire  had  writ, 
And  Beauty,  Joy  and  Excellence  had  taught.  . 
Where  is  the  fountain  that  my  life  has  sought? 
Castalius,  pour  thy  youth  of  waters  wide, 
Thy  balm  with  Spring's  eternity  so  fraught,  « 

Now,  quaff'  and  woo  this  everlasting  Bride, 
And  gray  renew  thy  gold  as  if't  had  never  died. 

All  hail !  O  Spirit  of  the  magic  chord ! 
Lend  of  thy  fire  one  spark  to  thrill  my  string, 
My  untried  lyre  gave  by  Apollo  lord : 
Hap'ly  and  oft  in  fancy  journeying 
Have  I  approached  thy  evangelic  spring, 
O  proud  Parnassus,  and  from  the  luscious  bowl 
Drank  with  a  frenzied  thirst,  sighing  to  sing — 
Come  then,  glad  Nine,  ye  minstrels  of  the  soul, 
Awake  each  waiting  pulse  and  let  your  numbers  roll. 

(21) 


22  POEMS  FROM  THE  PACIFIC 

II 

SUN  AND  STORM  IN  THE  COAST  RANGE 

Fair  Morning  broke  with  an  exultant  joy, 
And  Nature  put  her  purplest  livery  on  ; 
The  less'ning  stars  did  with  the  sunbeams  toy, 
And  glad  the  Earth  as  in  his  fulness  shone 
The  Gold-king  of  the  Day ;  it  was  the  dawn 
Of  life  as  well  as  light — intensest  life — 
For  birds  and  beasts  and  brooks  did  pleasure  don, 
Summit  and  vale  with  vodal  glees  were  rife, 
And  'mid  such  gracious  stars,  what  thought  of  Ftorm  or  strife  ? 

Short  ends  the  tune  of  Nature's  lusty  lyre ! 
And  the  bold  blood  crowds  hard  the  swelling  veins ; 
For  see !  anon !  fierce  clouds  are  sheathed  in  fire, 
And  the  quick  blaze  reveals  the  weeping  plains, 
And  the  mount's  havoc  as  the  stern  oak  strains 
Before  the  blast  or  grapples  with  the  sod : 
And  Mars  has  given  Jove  the  battle's  reins.  . 
For  such  a  war  would  have  a  parent  god 
To  bid  the  awful  flash  and  rule  of  rattling  rod. 

Lo,  the  Skies  talk !  and  Ocean  answers  back 
As  each  were  angered  with  the  other's  threat 
And  would  disbattle  'neath  his  passion's  rack.  . 
And  scared  Space  shudders  as  two  worlds  had  met* 
Each  bent  to  prove  itself  most  passionate, 
And  hot  pursued,  pursuing  with  hot  rage, 
Outpours  the  flood  of  its  envenomed  debt.  . 
Grasp !  grasp !  the  story  of  this  fearful  page 
When  Diety  and  Dust  their  mighty  powers  engage ! 


SPENCERIAN  IMPRESSIONS  23 

III 

POESIS 

Sweet  Poesy !  thy  glad  gifts  come  to  me, 
So  winged  with  heavenly  freightage  and  refined, 
So  laden  with  enchanting  mystery, 
Quick  with  the  royalties  that  burn  and  bind, 
Awaking  wondrous  ecstacies  of  mind, 
That  I  embrace  theo  with  a  frantic  zeal, 
Letting  each  wound  of  life  thy  rich  balm  find, 
Or  when  distractions  o'er  my  bosom  steal, 
Turn  to  thy  nectrous  soring  and  not  in  vain  appeal. 

IV 

SHOSHONE  FALLS* 

Pause  ye  apace,  for  lo,  what  power  is  this — 
What  ocean  spills  her  waters  from  her  lap, 
And  casts  them  howling  o'er  yon  dark  abyss? 
Now  strain  the  eye,  arrest  the  blood's  smooth  nap. 
Impelling  grandeur  doth  essay  to  wrap 
The  Soul  of  God  within  this  awful  curl, 
And  fill  with  majesty  the  springing  gap. 
Deep  throes  and  terrors  unremitting  whirl, 
And  main  and  mist  alike  their  gracious  gifts  unfurl. 

i 

And  speech  is  hushed  within  its  humble  home, 
Pride  is  rebuked  and  poor  Self  chastened  here.  . 
Behold  a  world  wherein  the  Soul  may  roam, 
Flying  its  clay  for  an  exhaustless  cheer, 
*These  falls  are  fittingly  described  as  the  Niagara  of  the  West. 


24  POEMS  FROM  THE  PACIFIC 

Yet  feasting  with  a  reverential  fear 
At  the  All-Being's  overwhelming  board, 
Where  perfect  goodness  holds  it  wide  career, 
And  life  is  sinewed  in  the  roaring  Word 
Whose  long  and  loud  appeals  are  felt  while  they  are  heard. 

And  white  Earth  trembles  'neath  the  mighty  tread, 
Nor  dares  oppose  the  monster's  headlong  way, 
Nor  mock  his  groaning  voices  deep  as  dread, 
Nor  parallel  his  most  sublime  array.  . 
For  his  is  a  commanding,  resolute  sway, 
That  orders  homage  and  obedient  love 
In  the  strong  thunder  of  his  glory's  fray, 
And  while  he  wills  the  sternest  will  to  move, 
Asserts  th'  Repose  of  Power  that  Power  alone  can  prove. 


V. 


PACIFIC 

There  is  a  pleasing  terror  in  the  sea, 
A  wild  enchantment  in  its  infinite  waste. 
There  is  a  rapture  in  its  roaring  glee, 
One  language,  one,  that  man  has  not  defaced.  . 
The  luscious  land  by  fertile  greenery  traced 
Has  more  of  nutriment  and  gentle  sweets, 
But  here  where  elements  by  fear  are  chased 
The  soul  is  moved,  and  shrinks  from  what  it  greets, 
And  roams  in  reverent  awe  these  curling,  liquid  streets. 

It  is  enough — here  find  a  sacred  height — 
A  watery  Babel — where  the  soul  may  rise 


SPENCERIAN  IMPRESSIONS 

With  true  ambition  to  the  Source  of  light. 
But  when  man  lords  thee,  Sea,  and  vainly  tries 
To  rule  thee,  thou  dost  yield  his  seeming  prize, 
Then  breakest  down  the  barriers  of  sense 
With  thy  stern,  cold  negation,  and  the  skies 
Of  Pride,  or  mockest  at  such  poor  defense, 
Rebuking  with  thy  Dreadfulness !  Omnipotence  I 


VI 

RELIGIO  NATURALIS 

Each  fragile  leaf,  bud,  flower,  tells  a  tale 
That  not  in  all  the  creeds  of  Time  is  found ! 
Where  is  the  bigot  who  will  dare  assail ! 
Love,  Cleanliness,  Obedience — the  round 
Of  blessed  means — and  above  all  is  crowned 
The  Joy  of  all,  thanksgiving  on  each  tongue, 
That  swells  Creation's  glorious  resound, 
As  there  were  volumes  in  each  tiny  lung 
Leaping  to  pour  their  floods  of  praises  deep  and  young. 

In  truth's  name  ponder  boldly — he  is  mad 
Who  does  enslave  the  free  estate  of  thought, 
Letting  the  have  be  but  the  might  have  had. . 
Earth,  space,  all  life  is  with  religion  fraught, 
And  sacraments  of  light  not  truly  taught 
By  blind  interpreters — grasp  it  and  fill 
As  thou  dost  hunger  for  \vhatis  rightly  sought, 
Shall  all  be  found,  and  shall  supremely  still 
The  else  unanswered  wish  and  unobedient  will. 


26  POEMS  FROM  THE  PACIFIC 

Give,  give  the  BOU!  its  wing !  'T  will  reach  a  height, 
That  must  needs  shame  the  body's  littleness, 
And  lead  it  to  the  mountain-top  of  Right, 
And  prove  a  blessing  when  naught  else  can  bless.  . 
Beside  how  glad  the  flight,  to  fc;el  or  guess 
In  such  free  air  the  God-likeness  of  things 
Is  to  desire  them  :  the  serene  impress 
Of  beauty's  there,  the  ideal's  habitings, 
The  poet's  proper  world  who  lives  the  song  he  sings. 


VII 

YOUTH  AND  AMBITION 

O,  give !  give  back  my  youth !  stay,  tyrant  Time, 
Vampire  of  lif  o  !  necessity  or  lust, 
Now  yield  the  pre  mant  treasures  of  my  prime, 
Take  back  the  burden  of  this  empty  dust, 
This  sterile  promise,  this  corroding  rust, 
These  fading,  jaded  memories  of  joy !  • 
Surrender  back  my  unsuspecting  trust, 
My  hope,  health,  ecstacy,  when  a  free  boy, 
Wide  rolled  and  high  my  earth  and  ever  beauteous  toy. 

Beam  Life  upon  Earth's  ocean-bounded  plain, 
The  silent,  ashen  sepulcher  of  man, 
That  bursts  and  blooms  with  natal  sweets  again 
As  tho'  its  varied  page  had  just  began : 
No  mortal  mind  can  multiply  its  span — 
Like  to  a  plant  that  mounts  a  mouldered  pile, 
Ajid  growing  girds  and  hides  the  parent  plan, 
So  youth  upon  the  waiting  world  doth  smile, 
And  Winter  hides  his  face  'neath  Spring's  o'erflowing  Nik 


SPENCERIAN  IMPRESSIONS  27 

Now  does  the  heart  grow  glad  and  life  most  sweet, 
And  stung  with  interest  like  a  roseate  dream : 
Tho'  ragged  steeps  have  stayed  my  early  feet, 
And  deep  gulfs  mocked  my  march  with  a  faint  gleam 
Of  light  to  beckon  on,  yet  did  I  deem 
Them  proper,  nor  wept  the  while  my  hours, 
Bragged  into  years :  for  it  did  often  seem 
That  storms  were  Life's  true  preludes  'stead  of  showers, 
That  paths  are  oftimes  rough  that  lead  to  golden  bowers. 

Arise,  then,  Comrade !    grasp  the  living  Now ! 
Scale  patiently  and  high  and  as  a  knight 
Of  noble  lineage  die  ere  you  bow 
To  faithless  less :  preserve  your  harness  bright, 
And  to  the  end  maintain  a  shining  fight. 
But  seek  not  bliss  until  your  race  be  run ; 
If  run  in  gloom,  more  sweet  will  be  the  light ; 
The  highest  crown  is  that  the  bravest  won 
The  best  reward — the  laureled  canticle,  "well  done!" 


VIII 
"0,  WOMAN'S  EYES" 

0,  Woman's  eyes  are  so  bewitching  bright, 
And  her  swift  tones,  so  eloquently  dear, 
Her  smile,  how  full  of  deep  and  strange  delight, 
Her  presence  how  aglow  with  roseate  cheer, 
Her  msm'ry  keen  as  fire  afar  or  near.  . 
But  ah,  the  checkered  life  that  she  does  live, 
Commingling  day  with  darkness,  hope  with  fear, 
Stern  verdicts  naming  oft  but  to  reprieve, 
And  casting  deep  and  wide  her  sfars  that  glad  and  grieve. 


28  POEMS  PROM  THE  PACIFIC 

Forsooth,  what  witch  more  quick  with  winning  ways? 
What  siren  armed  with  more  enthralling  wiles? 
Now  with  a  glance  inspires  exultant  praise, 
Now  with  another  saucily  reviles.  . 
Crushes  and  creates  with  frowns  and  smiles, 
Or  burning  memories  or  blisof  ul  hopes, 
Glad'ning  the  heart  she  fatally  beguiles, 
Tells  it  of  light — a  day  that  never  opes, 
Then  makes  O  trebly  dark  the  night  through  which  it  gropes. 

But  when  she's  true !  Woman's  best  self  is  true, 
And  tried  and  trustful  as  a  sea-beat  rock ! 
Who  knowing  once  'twould  seem  one  ever  knew: 
The  same  alway,  confronting  every  shock 
Of  time  and  tempest  and  each  ribald  mock ; 
Winning  all  honor  by  her  faithfulness, 
And  tireless  care,  rich  gems,  which  to  unlock, 
Is  to  rejoice  and  ride  e'en  mid  distress, 
On  wings  which  mount  and  grow,  and  mounting  grow  not  less. 

When  she  is  true — when  gentle  Love  is  like 
The  unvarying  sun  that  'neath  all  skies 
Glows  surely  on — how  may  her  being  strike 
From  our  wrapped  souls,  each  chord  that  in  them  lies, 
Converting  to  a  gracious  paradise 
The  heart's  wide  world  and  to  supremest  light, 
By  her  bright  joys  and  beaming  witcheries, 
Yielding  all  gladness  with  exhaustless  might, 
To  ears  a  heaven  of  sound,  to  eyes  diviner  sight. 

And  to  the  life  a  flow  of  nectrous  peace, 
That  poison-like  searches  the  cunning  deep 


SONNETS. 

Of  every  vein  and  cell,  and  will  not  cease 
Till  it  has  left  a  deluge  sweet  as  sleep, 
And  calmed  the  fountains  that  were  wont  to  weep: 
O,  Woman's  eyes  can  luminate  the  gray 
That  clouds  the  morning  of  life's  dungeon  keep, 
And  beam  along  our  joy-enamored  way, 
The  meaning  of  the  Night,  the  motive  of  the  day. 


SONNETS 


SAPPHO 

Alas !  that  Love's  lit  torch  should  burn  in  vain, 
That  Fate  should  cut  off  eloquent  desire, 
Call  forth  despair  as  chorus  to  thy  strain, 
And  choke  with  grief  where  sweet  breaths  did  respire, 
Or  feed  with  death  lost  passion's  icy  pyre ! 
Thy  lyre  and  love  and  lot  do  yet  remain, 
The  tenth  invoked  magician  of  all  time ! 
And  the  glad  muge  shall  through  all  aeons  climb.  . 
Love  that  was  thine  ignite,  inspire,  redeem, 
Song  that  was  thine  make  Beauty  more  sublime.  . 
Ah,  destiny  that  named  thy  life  a  dream 
Has  mocked  himself  and  given  the  world  a  theme ! 


30  POEMS  FROM  THE  PACIFIC 

II 

BYRON 

A  mountain  torrent  with  exhaustless  source,' 
Apalling  as  it  hastens  to  supply, 
An  ^Etnean  flame  with  undefined  course, 
Resplendent  in  its  wild  sublimity; 
A  power  of  varied  will  now  low,  now  high, 
Charming  and  cursing  with  acutest  force, 
Far  fastening  its  spell  of  cunning  art, 
To  gratify,  then  prey  upon  the  heart ; 
0,  other  wonders  may  unite  and  blend, 
But  this  was  not  itself  lest  wide  apart ! 
Lord  of  an  height  none  other  could  transcend, 
With  its  wild  loves  and  will  that  would  not  bend. 

Ill 
LINCOLN 

'  A  champion  of  humanity  and  right, 
A  man  of  virtue  and  of  simple  thought, 
Daring  for  justice  with  a  deep  delight, 
Nor  trumpeting  what  happily  he  wrought; 
And  day  by  day  an  honest  duty  sought ; 
Wielding  high  charges  with  unwearied  might, 
And  by  good  will  won  laurels  as  he  rose, 
The  stronger  love  of  friends  and  friends  of  foes ; 
Such  are  the  foremost  of  the  hero  brood, 
To  such  a  nation  her  affection  owes : 
Whose  works  are  seeds  that  ever  are  renewed, 
Whose  lives  are  battles  for  the  common  good. 


SONNETS  31 

IV 
WOMAN 

Chased  with  fine  gold  her  woman's  page  appears, 
And  her  rich  path  with  an  abundant  bliss  ; 
Deny  her  not  the  gentleness  she  rears, 
Praise  when  aright,,  forgiveness  when  amiss, 
Else  cast  her  o'er  despair's  unknown  abyss, 
Or  add  fresh  fuel  to  her  aching  fears : 
Blest  partner !  nay,  she  is  life's  very  source ; 
Dispensing  not  alone  the  nectrous  course 
To  the  frail  bud  she  bears,  but  to  the  swain, 
The  hero  and  the  sage,  with  happy  force, 
Grants  a  perpetual  summer  to  sustain, 
Life's  sweetest  stream  from  an  exhaustless  vein. 


V 


FREEDOM 

The  star-democracy  that  sprinkles  space, 
The  airy  reaches  of  untutored  seas, 
The  leaping  seasons'  unconstrained  race — 
Thou  art  the  breath  and  sinewy  soul  of  these, 
The  burden  of  their  myriad  harmonies, 
Rehearsed  in  whisper  soft  or  thunder  bass 
0,  in  the  rounds  of  thy  untiring  flight 
Cleave  the  cold  walk  of  iron-footed  night, 
And  deeply  search  the  leaden  hearts  of  men, 
That  they  from  stars,  seas,  seasons  learn  their  Right, 
Lest  drooping,  faltering  hope  expire,  and  then 
Exultant  chains  may  mock  the  might  have  been. 


32  POEMS  FROM  THE  PACIFIC 

VI 

TO  ANNE 

When  Venus  'rose,  the  issue  of  a  flower, 
Above  the  silvery  mists  that  veiled  the  sea, 
She  wore  no  charms  of  a  diviner  power 
Than  thine,  sweet  Anne,  are  allowed  by  me ; 
And  my  soul  sighs  an  humble  prayer  to  thee — 
Most  fair  enchantress  of  this  midnight  hour — 
That  with  thy  smiles  thou'lt  make  my  darkness  light, 
Create  a  day  to  reign  where  now  is  night ; 
Dispel  the  forlorn  humor  of  my  frame 
With  the  abundance  of  thy  beauty's  might .    . 
Grant  thy  sweet  seal  that  1  may  free  my  flame, 
And  lock  within  my  heart  thy  heart  and  name. 

VII 
TO  FESTUS 

The  deep,  warm  summers  of  a  liquid  love — 
The  leaping  beauty  of  a  young,  glad  soul — 
The  web  of  life  that  Love  and  Beauty  wove — 
I  pour  to  thee  and  thine  and  drain  the  bowl ! 
Who  hast  sung  the  Song  and  touched  the  laurel  goal, 
Who  hast  won  the  Bliss  when  gods  have  vainly  strove, 
Oh,  drink  who  can  th'  insane  lees  of  life ! 
With  ecstacy  the  laurel  of  the  strife.  . 
Let  reason  be  thy  great  Love's  prisoner, 
And  know  the  sweetness  Christ  has  made  thy  wife, 
The  Beautiful  that  is  thy  minister — 
Thou  hast  a  sure  redeemer — it  is  her ! 


SONGS  AND  BALLADS 

VIII 
NIGHT 

Inspired  Teacher  of  the  gift  of  Day, 
And  life's  sweet  peace,  how  doth  thy  coming  bless, 
And  reassure  the  glory  of  thy  sway ; 
Grand  is  thy  presence,  but  thy  strong  address 
Majestic,  woos  by  its  stern  tenderness, 
And  mitigates  my  else  distracted  way ; 
Here  let  the  pilgrim  bare  his  burning  brow, 
And  hide  in  thy  dear  robe  the  day's  last  throe, 
For  thou  canst  charge  with  health  and  hope  and  teach 
With  voice  divine,  forgetfulness  of  woe ; 
Or  when  mild  moons  thy  wilder  forms  impeach, 
Assert  anew  how  far  thy  balm  may  reach. 


SONGS  AND  BALLADS 


SONGS  AND  BALLADS 


"HOW  BRIGHTLY  ON  THE   LAUGHING  RIVER1 

Ah  me,  how  brightly  on  the  laughing  river 

The  liquid  summer  of  thine  eyelids  shine  ; 
How  fair  is  earth  since  thou,  love,  art  the  giver 
Of  light  divine ! 

Each  ev'ry  airy  step  of  life  rejoices 

And  every  month  is  quick  and  young  as  June, 
Since  thou,  sweet,  woke  the  whole  year's  yearning  voices 
And  taught  them  tune. 

Joy  swells  the  air,  from  cricket  to  the  starling, 
O,  sweet,  swift  music  of  the  tongue  of  time ! 
All  things  have  caught  the  laughter  of  my  darling — 
And  learned  to  rhyme. 

And  ev'ry  flower  has  blushed  in  brighter  glory 
'Neath  the  red  lips  of  this  supremest  queen; 
And  beaming  skies  glad  trace  the  painted  story 
Of  fair  Faustine. 

(37) 


38  POEMS  FROM  THE  PACIFIC 

The  jocund  path  of  day  from  morn  to  even 

Is  strewn  with  roseate  raptures  all  the  way : 

The  sparkling  joys  and  jewels  of  her  heaven — 

Like  stars  at  play. 

Sweet  life !  O,  glide  thou  ever  to  this  measure ; 

Move  thou  as  this  same  singing  sunlight  moves, 
The  perfect  touch  of  earth's  supremest  treasure — 
My  love  of  loves ! 


FOR  AN  ALBUM 

A  name  penned  on  a  fading  page, 

A  name  drawn  on  the  drifting  shore. 
May  live  a  little  empty  age, 

Then  be  the  blank  it  was  before ; 
But  who  engraves  upon  the  mind 

Some  darling  deed  or  bless-ed  thought, 
Shall  grasp  the  happy  arts  that  bind, 

And  win  the  deathlessness  he  sought. 


"  IF  A  MAN  STAND  UP  TO  THE  STORM 
LIKE  A  MAN  " 


SONG  OF  THE  BOATSWAIN. 

If  a  man  stands  up  to  th'  storm  like  a  man, 
He  will  think  not  much  of  the  end ; 

He  will  do  his  duty  as  best  he  can, 
Let  it  win  him  foe  or  friend. 


SONGS  AND  BALLADS 

'Twere  enough  to  know  what  were  best  to  do, 

The  right  true  thing  to  be  done ; 
The  good  of  many  the  good  of  few, 

And  the  good  of  every  one. 

Then  when  the  hands  have  bestowed  their  boon, 
And  the  heart  has  outpoured  its  prayer, 

What  matters  it,  lads,  how  late  or  how  soon 
We  become  as  a  breath  of  air  ? 

In  your  own  souls'  deep  is  the  sweet  of  worth, 

And  you  need  no  other  prize ; 
Let  your  conscience  be  your  reward  on  earth, 

'Twill  glad  you  again  in  the  skies. 

No  alarms  at  the  last,  no  chiding  train 

Will  vex  the  breast  with  affright ; 
It  will  have  no  room  for  the  storm  of  pain 

When  filled  with  the  calm  of  right. 

And  Death  may  appear  and  perfect  his  plan, 
You  are  ready  whene'er  he  shall  send ; 

If  a  man  stand  up  to  the  storm  like  a  man, 
He  will  think  not  much  of  the  end. 


"  SWIFT  MAY  THE  TUNE  OF  SPBING" 

Swift  may  the  tune  of  Spring, 
Joy  without  measure  sing 

Fair  love  for  thee : 
For  thee  the  blithesome  birds, 
Weave  a  sweet  trance  of  words — 
For  thee. 


39 


40  POEMS  FEOM  THE  PACIFIC 

Bright  trips  the  silver  shoon 
Of  morn  to  golden  noon, 

Smiling  for  thee, 
Cupids  of  rosy  eve 
Fierce  dreams  of  color  weave — 
For  thee. 

White  rose  and  daisies  bright, 
Lure  thee  with  stars  of  light, 

Whiter  for  thee; 
Charmed  breath  of  flowers  fair 
Sweetens  the  earth  and  air — 
For  thee. 

All  the  young  hills  rejoice, 
Bounding  with  lusty  voice, 

Joyous  for  thee; 
For  thee  the  purple  round 
Of  sight,  of  sense,  of  sound — 
For  thee. 


PSALM  OF  COUKAGE 

Alas,  for  the  burden  of  sorrow, 

For  the  canker  that  mixes  with  clay : 
Alas,  for  the  toils  of  to-morrow 

That  are  born  of  the  toils  of  to-day ; 
Ah,  the  fact  of  life's  bitter  waters, 

The  iron-frozen  fact  of  her  bain, 
The  fact  that  her  sons  and  her  daughters 

Are  born  in  a  manger  of  pain. 


SONGS  AND  BALLADS 


"What  then,  oh  ye  that  are  human, 

Endowed  with  the  lordship  of  Earth, 
What  are  they  now,  false  men  or  truemen, 

That  heed  not  the  rank  of  their  birth  ? 
The  brute  in  the  cold  forest  meshes 

Wears  a  nature  defiantly  warm, 
And  dares  his  severest  distresses 

In  the  lap  of  the  sun  and  the  storm. 

Oh,  say,  are  ye  greater  than  these  are? 

I  charge  ye  arise  and  come  forth ; 
The  head  should  be  high  as  the  lees  are, 

And  Man  be  the  standard  of  Worth ; 
I  charge  ye  come  forth  where  the  storm  is, 

Assert  of  what  stuff  ye  are  made, 
For  the  God  of  all  gods  in  your  form  is, 

In  your  eye  is  the  lightning  of  shade. 

Ah,  treason  and  trial  and  trouble, 

Afflictions  that  come  while  they  go ! 
If  life  is  a  sea  that  is  double, 

Its  larger  half  weighted  with  woe — 
Why,  what  is  the  work  that  availeth, 

What  old  thing  may  master  the  new? 
'Tis  the  ready,  stout  will  that  assaileth — 

The  Force  that  finds  Duty  to  do. 


Nor  grief  with  its  channels  of  bitter, 
Nor  passion  that  dies  in  the  night, 

May  wear  down  the  walls  that  are  fitter 
As  courts  of  the  cunning  of  Might; 


42  POEMS  FROM  THE  PACIFIC 

All  life  dulls  the  scythes  that  are  slaying, 

All  nature  opposes  her  end, 
Let  man  challenge  human  decaying, 

And  Friendship  find  out  her  own  friend* 

Nay,  not  as  brutality's  Nero 

Redress  yon  the  ills  that  are  rife, 
But  be  you  your  own  gentle  hero 

Resisting  the  torments  of  life, 
Firm-footed  as  cedars  of  red  are, 

Great-hearted  as  mountains  of  stone  j 
If  fighting  where  only  the  dead  are, 

O,  bear  on  the  battle  alone ! 

All  hail  to  the  eloquent  story ! 

And  bind  up  the  wounds  that  are  riven, 
Let  Manhood  assert  its  brave  glory, 

And  Womanhood  triumph  its  heaven ; 
Now  staunch  ye  the  tears  that  like  lead  are, 

And  turn  them  to  gold  of  the  bone ; 
If  fighting  where  only  the  dead  are 

Oh,  bear  on  the  battle  alone ! 


"  0  WHENCE  THE  DELIGHT  OF  THY 

FACE  " 

O,  whence  the  delight  of  thy  face,  my  love, 
"  And  lustre  that  haunts  thine  eye? 
Mayhap  the  fairies  of  morning  wove 
This  rose  of  dawn  and  white  of  the  dove 
In  fire  so  fierce  as  to  mock  and  move 
The  soul  of  the  jealous  sky ! 


SONGS  AND  BALLADS 

O,  whence  thy  summer  of  sound,  my  own, 

And  muse  that  sings  in  thy  mouth  ? 
Mayhap  the  birds  of  spring  have  flown 
To  thy  lips  with  roseate  wreaths  of  tone, 
Till  the  breath  of  thy  siren  speech  has  grown 
A  symphony  of  the  South. 

0  whence  thy  passion  of  joy,  Ma  Belle, 

And  wealth  of  gladness  to  me  ? 
Mayhap  the  tunes  of  the  morn  can  tell 
Why  the  sky  has  wrought  its  charms  in  thy  spell, 
And  the  air  its  sweets  with  the  song  and  swell 

And  mystery  of  the  sea ! 


MIGNON 

Bright  are  the  crystal  stars  and  gay, 
O,  bright  the  diamond's  vital  ray, 
The  lakelet  bright  'neath  a  silvery  moon ; 
Brighter  than  thsse  or  the  sheen  of  noon 
Are  the  eyes  of  dear  Mignon. 

Sweet  is  the  virgin  breath  of  Spring, 
Sweet  the  burdens  the  bee  doth  bring, 
Sweet  is  the  kiss  of  the  honeyed  flower, 
Sweeter  than  cither  in  living  power 
Are  the  lips  of  my  Mignon. 

Soft  are  the  snowy  folds  of  the  rose, 
The  mossy  bed  whereon  dews  repose, 
Soft  the  white  plumage  of  the  swan ; 
Softer  and  whiter  than  silken  down 
Is  the  breast  of  pure  Mignon. 


43 


POEMS  FROM  THE  PACIFIC 

Fine  are  the  hymns  in  the  leafy  vale, 
Kich  the  red  tones  of  the  nightingale, 
Dear  is  the  song  of  the  rippling  rill ; 
But  finer  and  richer  and  dearer  still 
Is  tho  voice  of  sweet  Mignon. 

Pure  is  the  blossom  and  bud  new  born, 
Pure  the  luculent  beads  of  morn, 
The  lily  pure  and  feathery  foam ; 
But  purer  far  in  its  happy  home 

Is  the  heart  of  loved  Mignon. 


"  THY  WRONGS  HAVE   MADE   THEE 
SACRED " 

Thy  wrongs  have  made  theo  sacred,  lady  mine, 
And  the  swift  poisons  that  about  thee  twine, 

Chilling  thy  gentle  heart, 
Climb  also  to  my  heart  with  bitter  tread, 
As  they  would  sting  it  too  till  it  were  dead, 

Slaying  with  cruel  smart. 

No  flower,  late  radiant  with  enamored  light, 
Stricken  and  lone  in  loneliness  of  night, 

Nor  wounded,  mateless  bird, 
Whose  wing  could  soar  no  further  than  its  song, 
Is  half  so  wof  ul  in  its  weeds  of  wrong 

As  thou  whose  sigh  I  heard. 

How  would  I  shield  thee  from  the  rude  world's  touch, 
The  sharp,  cold  thorns  that  tear  thy  life  so  much, 
How  comfort  thee  with  balm 


SONGS  AND  BALLADS  45 

Of  gentle  words  and  ministries  of  love, 
As  I  would  woo  an  injured,  trembling  dove, 
Forth  from  the  storm  to  calm ; 

And  heal  thy  broken  heart  with  myrrh  of  rest, 
And  with  new  faiths  emparadise  thy  breast, 

So  wofully  deceived, 

Till  thou  should'st  rise  glad-winged  from  life's  alloy, 
And  in  the  summer  of  thy  white  soul's  joy 

Forget  that  thou  hast  grieved. 


LOVE'S  OMNIPRESENCE 

When  Day  forgets  his  beams, 
And  laughing  stars  illuminate  the  sea; 

When  Silence  weaves  tlie  landscape  into  dreams, 
And  Odor  sweet  exhales  her  witchery ; 

Forth  from  all  these  a  force  more  potent  springs, 

The  Love,  the  sense,  the  strength,  the  soul  of  things. 

At  Midnight's  deeper  hour, 

When  Earth  is  'mid  the  story  of  her  sleep, 
I/ove's  lids  hide  not  her  omnipreseDt  power; 

Love  is  awake,  to  worship  and  to  weep, 
To  woo,  to  warm,  sanctify,  to  calm, 
To  heal  all  wounds  with  heaven-impregnate  balm. 

As  blushes  forth  the  morn, 

With  rosy  youth  aleap  from  height  to  height, 
The  sovereign  Sun  arises  newly  born, 

And  bathes  the  world  with  Love-enchanted  light, 
Thrilling  all  life  with  her  supreme  caress. 
Love  is  ail-where  to  quicken  and  to  bless. 


46 


POEMS  FEOM  THE  PACIFIC 

"  SWEET  MEMORIES  OF  OTHER 
DAYS  " 

Sweet  memories  of  other  days 
Are  sprinkled  o'er  this  hallowed  spot, 

I  walk  again  the  olden  ways, 
And  live  anew  the  olden  lot. 

The  cradle  whence  I  woke  from  night, 
When  Life's  first  toysome  scenes  unfurled, 

The  wondrous  window  by  whose  light 
I  first  looked  out  upon  the  world ; 

The  lads  who  joined  in  shout  and  song, 
The  little  maids,  each  ta'en  to  wife, 

That  here  drew  lots  for  right  or  wrong, 
And  entered  on  the  play  of  Life ; 

t 
The  fields  wide-spread  with  yellow  grain, 

The  woods  with  many  a  tangled  bower, 
AVhere  first  awoke  the  sense  of  gain, 

And  conquest  of  the  pride  of  power — 

Enchant  my  awe-awakened  breast, 

Aweary  with  dominion  drear, 
Whose  best  pursuit  is  that  sweet  rest 

I  left  upon  the  threshold  here. 

Forms  of  my  youth's  fair  summer-time, 
Swift  days  whose  foot-fall  was  not  felt, 

Glad  hours  of  romance  and  of  rhyme, 
As  at  dear  mother's  feet  we  knelt— 

Eenew  me  with  your  magic  zest, 

Aweary  of  this  later  cheer, 
Whose  beet  pursuit  is  that  sweet  rest 

I  left  upon  the  threshold  here. 


SONGS  AND  BALLADS 


"  0,  WITH  A  LIGHT  HEART  AND 
A  MERRY  " 

AIR  :   Where  there's  a  Will  there's  a  Way 

0,  with  a  light  heart  and  a  merry, 

We'll  laugh  at  the  wrinkles  of  care, 
Since  we  find  that  the  sour  of  the  cherry 

Is  less  than  the  sweet  of  the  pear ; 
O,  what  if  the  day  has  been  dreary, 

And  the  dark  of  the  night  may  be  long, 
We  know  where's  a  light  that  is  cheery, 

And  how  to  drown  sorrow  in  song. 

O,  what  if  the  clouds'  silver  lining 

Is  dimmed  with  the  hope  we  held  most, 
The  strength  that  is  spent  in  repining 

Might  regain  the  prize  that  is  lost ; 
O,  Fortune  that's  surly  and  sorry, 

May  stab  with  a  pain  that  is  sore, 
But  to  soften  our  nerves  with  its  worry, 

Will  cause  it  to  hurt  us  the  more. 

O,  then  be  you  off,  puling  Sorrow, 

And  drink  of  white  blood  where  you  may, 
For  a  gallant  success  on  to-morrow 

Will  be  born  of  the  failure  to-day ; 
O,  with  a  light  heart  and  a  merry, 

We'll  laugh  at  the  wrinkles  of  care, 
Since  we  find  that  the  sour  of  the  cherry 

Is  less  than  the  sweet  of  the  pear. 


47 


48  POEMS  FROM  THE  PACIFIC 


MA  BELLE ! 

Since  o'er  my  startled  vision  it  befell, 
A  slight  pale  foot  should  pass  into  my  heart, 
My  waiting  life  found  out  from  whence  to  start, 

Mayhap  found  out  whence  it  may  end,  as  well — 
.  Ma  Belle!  Ma  Belle! 

Nay,  the  quick  circle  of  her  eye  ends. not! 
Nor  its  most  wondrous  sorcery  of  love, 
Nor  any  sweet  that  is  a  child  thereof : 

Joys  me — that  my  soul's  soul  is  thus  begot— 
Oh  rapturous  lot ! 

And  from  the  honeyed  meshes  of  the  spell, 
I  shall  go  forth  as  one  made  strong  as  ten, 
As  one  begirt  to  work  some  good  to  men, 

And  touch  with  fire  the  story  he  shall  tell — 
Ma  Belle !  Ma  Belle ! 

For  she's  a  marvel  worker  to  mankind, 
Kindling  the  cunning  of  weak  arms,  and  stout, 
Shedding  the  essence  of  fierce  life  about — 

As  wee  white  teeth  sowed  by  the  unseen  wind- 
Kose  gods  behind! 

A  Gabriel  of  hope  named  Florimel, 
Typing  the  force  and  comfort  of  sweet  things, 
God  sent  with  sweet  light  on  her  wings, 

And  faithful  as  God's  only  Abdiel — 
Ma  Belle !  Ma  Belle ! 

Because  she  is  in  her  glad  wonderhood — 
And  wiles  by  her  love's  look  such  blessedness, 
Who  stands  not  ready  to  obey  and  bless, 

And  taste  the  bli«s  till  now  not  understood— 
Born  of  LJSS  good. 


SONGS  AND  BALLADS  49 

Her  red  lips'  wish  is  dear  as  heaven's  shell, 
That  tunes  the  soul  to  champion  fair  ways : 
One's  subtle  sweet  has  leavened  endless  days, 

And  one  cut  off  and  killed  the  sting  of  hell — 
Ma  Belle !  Ma  Belle ! 


"NOT  ALL  THE  STRINGS  THAT  THRILL 
WITH  FIRE" 

Not  all  the  strings  that  thrill  with  fire, 
Well  taught  in  sounds  that  can  rejoice, 

Can  wake  the  thralldom  of  the  lyre 
Whose  tune  is  thy  divinest  voice. 

Tho'  Earth  be  fair  from  sky  to  sea, 
My  eyes  knew  not  the  joy  of  light, 

'Till  they  looked  forth  and  finding  thee 
They  found  the  magic  gift  of  sight. 

Blest  by  the  .summer  of  thy  glance, 
More  potent  than  the  lightning's  dart. 

My  soul  joins  in  Life's  jocund  dance, 
And  Hope  rejuvenates  my  heart. 

Now  do  I  feel  the  worth  of  life, 

Awakened  by  thy  rosy  fire, 
The  motive  and  reward  of  strife, 

The  glory  of  sublime  desire. 

Most  sweet  to  hear  most  fair  to  see, 
Most  quick  with  toils  of  all  glad  girls, 

Yea,  I  would  lose  a  world  for  thee, 
Whose  love  were  greater  than  all  worlds. 


50  POEMS  PROM  THE  PACIFIC 


MY  LOVE'S  THE  LIFE. 

She  is  brightness  to  ray  day-time, 

A  star-sun  to  my  night, 
My  constant,  precious  ray-time, 

The  all  I  know  of  light ; 
My  love's  the  life  of  color,  too, 

Fair  Nature's  painted  tide, 
My  love's  the  life  of  every  hue, 

My  love  is  more  beside. 

0  Music,  fill  thou  all  my  soul  — 

My  love  is  in  each  strain  — 
Thy  rich,  red  languishings  shall  roll 

Throughout  my  breast  and  brain, 
And  raise  me  with  a  glad  rebound  — 

0  warm,  O  liquid  bride  — 
My  love's  the  life  of  burning  sound, 

My  love  is  more  beside. 

Ah,  sweetness  of  the  flower-cups, 

And  drippings  of  the  vine, 
The  burden  that  the  bee  sups 

Is  of  this  sweet  of  mine, 
Ah,  rapture  where  the  lip  clings, 

Ripe  fruitage  deified, 
My  love's  the  life  of  honeyed  things, 

My  love  is  more  beside. 

The  odor  of  the  wildwood, 

And  perfume  of  the  grove, 
Were  caught  up  with  her  childhood, 

And  nurtured  with  my  love, 
Ah,  brightness,  beauty,  sweet  distress, 

Delights  'till  now  denied, 
My  Love's  the  life  of  blissfulness, 

My  love  is  more  beside. 


SONGS  AND  BALLADS  51 

THINE  EYES 

I  see  strange  dreams  burn  in  thine  eyes,  my  dear, 

And  mount  on  roseate  ladders  far  above, 
Where  silvery  palaces  of  saints  appear, 

Where  dwells  therein  the  olive  and  the  dove. 

Slim  shining  temples  white  as  sails  at  sea, 
And  scented  phantom  courts  where  lovers  woo, 

Bright  realms  and  forms  of  fairy  fantasie, 
Calmly  afloat  in  airs  of  pink  and  blue. 

And  all  about  flowers  sing  sweet  lullabys, 
With  red  lips  sing  and  whisper  tender  runes 

Of  rest  and  happiness,  or  with  blue  eyes 
Conjure  the  birds  to  mingle  with  the  tunes. 

And  for  soft  interlude  the  white-lipped  leaves 
Of  tall  fair  trees,  more  queenly  than  the  moon, 

Chorus  apace :  and  through  all  Cupid  weaves 
His  mellow  shafts  from  night  to  golden  noon, 

Or  swells  the  love-tuned  harmony  afar 
Among  the  exultant  hills,  or  with  light  wing, 

Vibrates  with  bounding  joy  from  star  to  star, 
As  'twere  the  life  and  soul  of  things  to  sing. 

Sweet  song  and  breathing  scarlet  of  the  Morn ! 

And  skies  with  painted  gamuts  of  swift  sound ! 
0,  smiles  and  flowers  of  tune  that  heaven  adorn ! 

Passion  and  joy  of  an  immortal  round ! 

Joy,  Hope,  Enchantment  pulsato  in  the  spell  1 

The  lighted  cunning  of  a  vast  surprise : 
And  these  quick  things  and  more  than  words  can  tell, 

Glow  in  the  wondrous  thralldom  of  thine  eyes ! 


52  POEMS  FROM  THE  PACIFIC 


"  YOU  HAVE  SAID  THE  CHARMED  WORDS  » 

You  have  said  the  charmed  words  that  you  love  me,  Ma  Belie, 
And  a  roseate  light  jewels  forth  with  its  joy, 

And  with  bright-bosomed  swell 
Sweeps  the  sky  as  if  sped  by  that  fire-arm-ed  boy, 
And  weds  the  gold  Sun  where  his  swift  glances  toy, 

Rejoicing  the  day  with  his  spell ! 

And  the  air  with  electrical  bound 

Is  quick  with  its  story  of  life ! 
As  if  Sol  had  translated  his  gold  into  sound, 
And  silver-tongued  stars  joined  the  eloquent  round 

And  swelled  the  melodious  strife ! 

And  waking  the  morn  and  the  noon, 
The  hills  and  the  vales  with  sweet  minstrelsy  rife 
"  With  flowers  deck  the  Bride  that  young  joy  takes  to  wife, 

And  dance  to  the  rapturous  tune ! 

Oh,  Bride  of  the  Shore  and  the  Sea, 

The  world  is  re-modeled  for  me ! 
Its  color  and  sweetness  and  sound  have  new  sense, 
Its  motive  and  end  a  divine  eloquence, 

That  caught  its  divineness  from  thee ! 
The  hand  hath  a  cunning  undreamed  of  before, 
The  heart  the  joined  force  of  the  Sea  and  the  Shore, 

The  senses  the  Strength  to  be  free, 
The  ear  hath  sweet  gladness  to  hear  evermore, 

And  the  eye  deeper  beauty  to  see ! 

You  have  said  the  charmed  words  that  you  love  me,  Ma  Belle, 
And  I  rise  from  the  desolate  dust  of  the  night, 
To  where  the  fierce  rose  of  this  life  giving  light 

Cleaves  the  hateful  eclipse  of  the  darkness  of  hell, 

And  paints  the  proud  sky  with  its  message  of  might — 
"All  is  well!    All  is  well!" 


SONGS  AND  BALLADS 


53 


"0,  HOPE,  LIFT  UP  THY  WEARY  WINGS'* 

O,  Hope,  lift  up  thy  weary  wings, 

And  make  them  into  lighter  ones, 
The  veriest  birdling  forward  flings 
Sweet  challenge  in  the  song  he  sings, 
With  quick  white  joys  the  welkin  rings, 

E'en  Phoebus  hath  no  whiter  ones.  . 
O,  Hope,  take  up  thy  barren  wings,  ,   UNIVERSITY 

And  wake  them  into  brighter  ones. 

Tiptoe  upon  the  mountain  side, 

The  Day  hath  found  a  fleeter  way ; 
More  sparkling  flows  the  brittle  tide, 
The  skies  are  ope'd  more  wide  and  wide, 
All  things  proclaim  the  waiting  Bride, 

All  Life  doth  gladly  greet  her  way, 
Tiptoe  upon  the  mountain  side, 

The  May  hath  found  a  sweeter  way. 

0,  Hope,  take  up  thy  distant  wings 

And  make  them  into  nearer  ones : 
All  through  the  night  my  dreaming  brings 
Fierce  prophecies  of  coming  things, 
When,  lo,  the  morrow's  prospect  clings 

To  wonderscapes  of  clearer  ones.  . 
O,  Hope,  take  up  thy  dreary  wings, 

And  wake  them  into  dearer  ones. 

I  yearn  to  catch  the  fuller  tone, 
The  truest  of  Love's  history : 
I  burn  to  clasp  the  magic  zone 
Of  Summer  ere  her  sweets  have  flown.  . 


54  POEMS  FROM  THE  PACIFIC 

And  I  shall  have  thee,  Hope,  my  own, 
And  bear  my  aching  kiss  to  thee — 

I  yearn  to  catch  the  fuller  tone, 
The  newest  of  Love's  mystery. 

O,  Hope,  take  up  thy  leaden  wings 
And  make  them  into  airy  ones.  . 
Thou  wilt  not  cheat  me — queen  of  kings — 
With  unsubstantial  gla^ennings. 
Nay,  all  my  soul  en-hungered  springs 

To  eunny  joys  and  starry  ones.  . 

0,  Hope,  take  up  thy  earthy  wings 

And  wake  them  into  fairy  ones. 


"  FAIN  WOULD  I  TELL  " 

Fain  would  I  tell  my  idol  some  sweet  thing, 
But  know  not  how  if  words  must  bear  the  tale; 

My  love  knows  not  a  language  it  can  sing, 
Nor  how  to  arm  song-arrows  to  prevail. 

There  is  a  message,  deeper,  truer,  far, 
The  still  and  hallowed  Sinai  of  the  soul, 

That  speaks  without  an  error  or  a  jar, 
Inscribed  on  an  imperishable  scroll ! 

Bead  that  and  know,  else  never  may  be  known, 
Observe  with  what  my  ev'ry  glance  is  rife, 

Look  'neath  an  eye  that  sees  but  thee  alone, 
And  view  the  charm  that  operates  my  life. 


SONGS  AND  BALLADS 

«  CALL  NOT  THE  PROMISE  VAIN  " 

SONG   OP  THE  PIONEER 

Call  not  the  promise  vain,  Camille, 

Call  not  the  prospect  dark; 
Have  we  not  wealth  in  rosy  health, 

And  youth  for  a  sturdy  bark  ? 
Is  the  world  not  wide  with  ready  work 

For  ready  hands  to  do, 
And  will  not  my  heart  play  an  earnest  part 

When  invoked  by  love  and  you? 

Call  not  the  promise  vain,  Camille, 

Call  not  the  prospect  dark ; 
Is  there  not  life  in  very  strife 

When  happiness— the  mark  ? 
Is  there  not  strength  in  the  depth  and  height 

Of  bliss  we  hold  in  view, 
And  will  not  my  heart  play  a  noble  part 

When  inspired  by  love  and  you? 

Call  not  the  promise  vain,  Camille, 

Call  not  the  prospect  dark, 
Let  courage  bold  our  lives  enfold, 

And  labor  be  our  ark  ; 
Is  there  not  cheer  in  our  path  of  hope, 

Will  not  success  pursue, 
And  will  not  my  heart  play  a  manly  part 

When  inflamed  by  love  and  you? 


55 


56  POEMS  FROM  THE  PACIFIC 

"LET  US  BE  CONSCIOUS  HOW  HAPPY  WE  ARE 

Let  us  be  conscious  how  happy  we  are, 

That  the  summer  of  life  is  our  own, 
The  winter  that  chills  and  the  shadows  that  mar 

Have  warmed  in  the  stars  that  have  shone ; 
Our  years  are  as  acts  of  a  joyous  dream, 

Our  moments  as  rays  of  a  sun, 
Our  lives  are  the  flood  of  a  master  stream — 

Two  streams  that  have  mingled  in  one. 

Let  us  be  conscious  how  happy  we  are, 

For  contentment  has  sweetened  our  earth ; 
To  the  crowd  we  resign  the  discords  that  jar, 

To  the  desert  surrender  its  dearth ; 
We  have  learned  to  fathom  the  deeps  of  our  day, 

Have  caught  the  fine  music  of  things, 
We  have  courted  the  burden  of  sweets  on  our  way, 

And  conquered  its  burden  of  stings. 


"LOOK  UP  POOR  HEART" 

Look  up,  poor  heart,  the  night  is  nearly  past, 

Plod  yet  a  little  thy  impatient  way, 
A  shining  joy  awaits  thee  at  the  last, 

Earth  was  thy  Night,  but  heaven  will  be  thy  Day. 

Look  up,  dear  heart,  the  dawn  is  nearly  come, 
Be  greater  than  thy  burthen  yet  a  space, 

Each  mocking  step  conveys  thee  nearer  home, 
Each  drop  of  sweat  begems  thy  final  place. 


SONGS  AND  BALLADS  57 

Look  up,  good  heart,  sweet  Death  is  near  at  hand ! 

Be  firm  and  true  until  he  bid  thee  rise, 
And  for  thy  valor  grant  with  magic  wand 

The  burthen  of  the  blisses  of  the  skies ! 


"FINE  WAS  HIS  VOICE  WHOSE  RUDDY  LIP" 

Fine  was  his  voice  whose  ruddy  lip 

The  Helpla  bees  once  sought  to  sip, 
And  sweet  the  tone 

The  siren  wings  from  her  fatal  throne.  . 
But  finer  far  the  finished  tongue, 
And  sweeter  far  the  silver  lung 

That  spells  my  darling's  name. . 
That  holds  fierce  mem'ries  in  serene  control, 
And  echoes  gladness  to  my  deepest  soul — 

"jftroi«/n 

The  beauty-flame, 
That  spells  this  pregnant  name. 

Fast  to  the  voice's  wing 

A  thousand  graces  cling 

Caught  from  mine  own.  . 

Spells  of  dear  light  that  round  her  eyelids  shone, 
Sweet  couriers  of  the  thralldom  of  her  throne, 
Singing  sweet  calm  into  the  inmost  heart, 

An  halcyon  delight, 
A  joy  her  flowering  beauty  doth  impart 

With  soft  entrancing  might, 
And  while  forgetful  of  all  else  beside, 
It  renders  smooth  the  breast  of  pleasure's  tide. 


58  POEMS  FROM  THE  PACIFIC 

And  thus  it  sings — 
That  inner  tongue — and  here  the  tale  it  brings. 

"Fair!  Fair! 
To  Beauty's  despair, 
As  she  were  born  in  the  womb  of  the  rose, 

And  nursed  by  the  snows.  . 
The  light  of  the  skies  is  dyed  in  her  hair- 
Fair!  Fair!" 

"Sweet!  Sweet! 
From  face  unto  feet, 
Her  tinted  charms  are  mistaken  for  flowers ; 

Like  myrrh  are  her  hours, 
Her  blisses  more  keen  than  nectar  of  wheat — 
Sweet!  Sweet!" 

And  it  fills  with  rapture  the  moment's  space, 
With  a  theme  as  bright  as  a  comet's  face — 

None  fitter  to  rejoice — 
And  the  beautiful  line  of  her  life  I  trace 

By  advices  from  the  voice, 
Which  holds  quick  mem 'ries  in  serene  control, 
And  echoes  gladness  to  my  deepest  soul — 
"Minne!" 

The  beauty-flame, 
That  spells  this  pregnant  name. 


SONGS  AND  BALLADS 

"IF  DREAM  SHAVE  TONGUES" 

TO  YOLONDE 

If  dreams  have  tongues,  then  a  dream  may  tell, 
A  joy  that  has  painted  my  heart,  Ma  Belle, 
When  the  sun  went  out  with  his  red  wings  furled, 
But  left  thy  light  to  illume  the  world : 
And  hope  has  templed  my  roseate  sky 
'Neath  the  gamut  of  color  that  haunts  thine  eye, 
And  the  clouds  of  Night  are  how  vainly  curled 
When  thy  light  is  left  to  illume  the  world. 

Ah,  the  dreams  that  are  full  of  the  sweet  of  this ! 

The  red  of  bloom  and  the  scarlet  of  bliss ! 

The  Cupids  that  lie  in  thy  fierce  caress ! 

The  prodigal  fire  of  thy  golden  tress ! 

Yea,  they  found  the  sting  of  life  and  its  sweet 

Was  in  wooing  here  at  thy  lily  feet, 

That  the  flames  of  the  world's  applause  were  less 

Than  the  prodigal  fire  of  thy  golden  tress ! 


"CEASE   THY  TREMULOUS   PLAINT" 

Nay,  cease  thy  tremulous  plaint, 

My  tender-bosomed  mate,  my  sweet,  my  saint, 

And  nestle  close  while  I  confirm  thy  trust, 
And  frighten  from  thee  each  delusive  fear, 
And  stay  the  dawning  sparkle  of  each  tear, 

Pleading  a  love  whose  deathless  name  is  must. 


60  POEMS  FKOM  THE  PACIFIC 

Thou  whom  I  took  to  me, 

The  first  wife-portion  of  my  destiny, 

Responsive  to  each  love-prayer  of  my  heart, 
Think  not  the  bond  so  brittle  as  to  break, 
That  thou  wilt  from  thy  precious  rest  awake ; 

Thy  soul  and  mine  have  not  learned  how  to  part. 

Nay,  on  life's  fickle  tide 

Thou,  sweet,  shalt  be  my  ever-present  bride, 
The  object  of  a  changeless  tenderness, 

Whose  flower-",  ike  frame  can  be  as  easy  chilled, 

Whose  gentle  breast  with  pain  as  f  nlly  filled, 
As  when  I  took  thy  hand  and  swore  to  bless. 

If  we  be  not  one  voice, 

Or  there  be  error  somewhere  in  our  choice 
Which  it  were  wretchedness  to  alter  now — 

We  will  maintain  the  honor  of  our  deeds, 

And  prove  heroic  to  their  sternest  needs, 
For  Love  doth  oft  re-crown  a  noble  brow. 

Howbeit  rest  in  peace, 

And  dare  all  thought  but  of  our  lives'  release ; 
Together  we  our  wedded  steps  shall  wend, 

Be  each  the  other's  counterpoise  of  strength, 

Together  test  this  life's  elastic  length, 
Together  try  the  riddle  of  its  end ! 


* 

MISCELLANEOUS 


MISCELLANEOUS 


SIERRA'S   GOOD-NIGHT   TO   THE  SUN-GOD* 

A  golden  flame  Sierra's  crest  illumes, 
In  massive  conflagration,  triple  bright, 
As  o'er  its  trembling  jewels  of  sleek  ice, 
The  Day-King  bursts — a  cataract  of  fire ! 

And  thus  to  the  World's  Lamp,  ere  his  last  kiss 
Of  mellow  light  had  died — Sierra  spoke. 

"  O,  thou,  whose  smile  is  Day,  whose  absence  Night, 

Pythagoras  hath  sung  thy  pregnant  names, 

And  ev'ry  time  and  tongue  hath  hailed  thee  God ! 

I ,  too,  am  crowned,  since  of  the  Occident, 

Thou,  the  World's  Eye,  beam'stlast  upon  my  brow! 

"  Supremest  Author!  Parent!  Father!  Lord! 

Alpha  of  being,  Omega  of  bliss ! 

I,  parting,  do  salute  thee  worshiping ! 

With  thy  quick  key  of  gold  hast  thou  unlocked 

The  hidden  wombs  of  earth,  and  lo !  in  pride, 

Blossomed  the  painted  miracles  of  Time ! 


*The  Sierra  Nevada  Range,  though  situated  over  a  hundred  miles  inland,  Is  BO 
much  higher  than  the  Coast  Range  its  peaks  receive  the  last  rays  of  the  sun  upon  the 
western  continent.  (63) 

X, 


64  POEMS   FROM   THE   PACIFIC 

In  red  and  bronze  and  purple,  luscious  fruits, 

And  grain  in  waves  of  yellow  light  ablaze, 

And,  tenderest  of  all,  thy  burning  touch, 

In  poesy  of  flowers  did  pulsate, 

And  crimsoned  of  thy  veins,  did  beam  and  blush 

The  rose — to  make  men  glad ! 

"  Resplendent  Sol ! 

Most  ancient  Giver  of  sweet  shining  Life ! 
With  Titan  glory  traversing  thy  twelve 
Celestial  signs,  thy  Labors,  copied  by 
Chaldean  Ur  and  Grecian  Hercules, 
Sublimely  move  the  world  with  tread  of  song ! 
Thou  art  Time's  mighty  Tune !  From  thee,  Bright  God ! 
Thy  singing  son  the  Lyre  inherited, 
That  Music's  touch  might  build  earth's  walls,  and  chord 
The  race  of  Man  with  universal  Good ! 


"  From  thee,  the  state  of  Harmony !  the  place 
Where  man  and  nature  blend  in  rhythmic  peace, 
The  spectrum  of  the  cosmic  consciousness ! 
The  victory  of  Love  is  thine — espoused 
Of  heaven — and  mightier  than  Death  or  Time ! 
Love!  the  supremest  beaming  Godliness? 
Wooing  to  rest  all  things  storm-rent  and  sad, 
Sheathing  the  spent  sword  of  unripe  evil, 
And  with  breath  of  healthful  honeyed  magic, 
Creating  men  in  the  grand  mould  of  Gods ! 
O,  sweet  translation !  transfigurement  august ! 
Most  wondrous  fair  glad  mystery  of  Life ! 
Plow  sparkles  forth  the  lighted  flame  of  sense, 
With  bliss  'til  now  undreamed,  and  passionate 
'Neath  the  strange  gaze  of  beaming  paradise ! 


MISCELLANEOUS  65 

X 

"  Pearl  chastening  Sun !  the  diamond  hath  stored 
Thine  eye-light  in  its  heart ;  the  opal's  torch, 
The  sapphire's  blue,  the  ruby's  mirrored  blood, 
Hath  caught  the  shining  laughter  of  thy  face, 
And  live,  transcendent  Horus,  in  thy  love; 
Earth's  emerald  sward,  the  fields  of  daffodil, 
The  purple  heath  are  of  thy  countenance ; 
And  all  the  landscapes  happiness,  and  the  seas, 
The  electric  flash  of  silvery  scales, 
And  on  the  dreamy  undulating  downs, 
The  glint  of  butterflies,  and  curving  flight 
Of  vari-plumaged  birds,  were  in  thine 
Eye-flash  born  to  honor  thee ! 

"0,  Fire-King! 

Vulcan  or  Mars,  Elias  or  Apollo, 
From  the  Aurorean  blushes  of  the  dawn, 
To  burning  Hesperus,  thou  fill'st  the  world 
With  Glory  and  with  God !  0,  Circle  Lord! 
O,  deathless  central  Unity  of  Things ! 
Life's  Yesterday !  To-day !  To-morrow !  thou ! 
Or  if,  at  last,  the  lagging  sands  of  Earth 
Shall  cease  to  tempt  the  catholic  tread  of  Man, 
Weary  of  weaving  threads  of  scarlet  Life, 
In  thy  embrace  eh  all  again  be  garnered, 
Each  atom's  form  to  be  re-born  of  thee ! 


Farewell,  O  Brilliant  Phoebus !  thy  maiden  Night 
Doth  beckon  as  thy  purple  smile  doth  wane, 
And  from  this  fittest  shrine,  this  mountain  altar, 
I,  with  religious  homage  cry  aloud, 
Good-night  to  thee !    A  continent's  Good-night  1 " 


66  POEMS  FROM  THE  PACIFIC 

CLARA  FOLTZ 


JURIST— MOTHER— WOMAN 


The  Forum's  breath  is  hushed  and  stiH ; 

Pacific's  Portia  awes  the  scene ! 
And  conscious  echoes  throb  and  thrill, 
The  list'ning  spaces  fright  and  fill 

With  thunders  from  the  Apennine ! 
Invective,  logic,  wit,  are  here, 

The  patriot  spirit  of  our  laws, 
And  by  her  periods  keen  and  clear 
The  good  are  freed,  the  guilty  fear 

The  towering  triumph  of  her  cause. 

But  what  new  tone  has  that  voice  found, 

Upon  which  silent  thousands  hung  ? 
About  fair  blossoming  babes  are  wound 
Lispings  of  love — a  trance  of  sound, 

The  Gracchi  mother's  hymn  re-sung; 
A  jurist — mother — teacher  now, 

The  eagle  mellowed  to  the  dove ; 
Upon  each  rare  and  radiant  brow 
The  honest  worth  of  pen  or  plow 

Is  blazoned  by  the  kiss  of  love ! 

Amidst  it  all  this  empress  born, 

Pursued  her  lofty  woman's  way ; 
Evil  was  shamed  beneath  her  scorn, 
And  jeweled  like  the  shining  morn 

Were  the  acts  of  all  her  day ; 
A  kiss  gave  she  for  every  blow, 

A  smile  she  had  where  shadows  vex ; 
She  was  where'er  her  feet  did  go 
The  chasteness  of  the  whited  snow, 

The  swan-like  Leda  of  her  sex*. 


MISCELLANEOUS  67 


HYMN  TO   THE   CALM    NIGHT* 

The  tired  spent  Day  has  ceased  his  busy  round 
And  seeks  the  purple  silence  of  repose : 

Sweet  as  love  is  this  hallowed  sleep  of  sound, 
This  rest  beneath  the  poppy  and  the  rose. 

Most  gracious  to  give  o'er  the  weight  of  care, 
And  close  the  weary  eye-lids  from  sick  sight ; 

Eenew  thee,  Day,  in  holy  calm  of  prayer, 
Secure  within  the  fostering  arms  of  Night. 

For  she's  the  parent  of  rebuilded  power, 
Strong  in  her  healing  as  the  kiss  of  Love, 

Yet  gentle  as  the  breath  of  maiden-flower, 
And  watchful  as  the  patient  Mother-Dove. 

Let  me  steal  deep  into  thy  bosom's  rest, 
And  hide  the  soul  too  worn  to  laugh  or  weep ; 

Or  find  in  the  charmed  wonder  of  thy  breast 
The  sweet  oblivious  miracle  of  sleep. 

Yea,  fold  with  wing  made  soft  in  Lethe's  tide 
All  weary  things  that  swoon   and  swirn  as  dead, 

The  Wind's  low  quivering  lip  hold  thou  and  hide, 
And  Echo  tell  no  troubled  word  he  said. 


*We  quote  the  following  from  the  Boston  Home  Journal : 
"This  fine  poem  (Hymn  to  the  Calm  Night),  by  Venier  Voldo,  was  written 
the  night  succeeding  a  terrific  storm  in  the  Sierra  Nevada  mountains,  which 
rly  cost  the  author  his  life,  and  was  therefore  inspired  by  a  spirit  of  thanksgiving, 
genuineness  of  its  poetic  feeling  and  beauty  of  diction  bear  lofty  testimony  for 
author  as  a  poet."  LTHE  PUBLISHERS.] 


C8  POEMS  FROM  THE  PACIFIC 

Oh,  mighty  Night !  still  thy  dark  might  as  Death ! 

Half  mover  of  the  world — yet  wondrous  still ; 
All  fair  time's  fruitage  sweetens  on  thy  breath, 

Bright  woven  in  the  summer  of  thy  will. 

Most  darling  armistice  'mid  life's  fierce  fray, 
Missioned  with  myrrh  and  secret-scented  charms, 

Each  brow  hard  flushed  with  victory  of  the  day, 
Glad  seeks  the  soft  refreshment  of  thine  arms. 

Smoothed  all  the  tortured  vesture  of  the  face, 
And  the  faint  heart  has  stilled  his  fev'rish  throe, 

The  red  life-stream  has  paled  his  passion-trace, 
And  stayed  the  headlong  fervor  of  his  flow. 

The  village  dreams,  and  hushed  the  city's  hum, 
The    shadows  mass  and  sleepy  star-lights  gleam; 

The  strength  of  Speech  finds  out  its  strength  while  dumb, 
And  Progress  draws  her  castles  from  a  dream. 

The  breath  of  all  the  world,  how  soft  and  low, 

As  Night  hath  come  to  weep  o'er  some  loved  bier; 

The  lazy  pine-plumes  swaying  to  and  fro 
Refuse  their  vespers  to  the  listening  ear. 

Yea,  sound  is  shamed  away  and  will  not  speak, 
Save  the  dull  drops  whose  mournful  monody 

Pours  ever  from  yon  cavern's  mantled  cheek, 
To  swell  the  sobbing  pseans  of  the  sea. 

And  all  forgetful  of  his  faltering  staff, 
The  bald  grandsire  hath  donned  a  wing-ed  shoon ; 

Where  late  were  flying  fest  and  rippling  laugh, 
The  step  of  morning  and  the  voice  of  noon. 


MISCELLANEOUS  69 

Deep  in  the  solemn  vistas  of  the  vale, 

Or  far  within  the  cloisters' of  the  wood, 
Tired  beast  and  bird  have  quit  th'  exhausted  trail 

To  still  the  lair  or  shield  the  sleeping  brood. 

O'er  the  pale  hills  the  half  moon's  mellow  beams, 

Lay  like  a  ghostly  glamour  o'er  things  dead ; 
And  gild  yon  pensive,  meditative  streams, 

With  light  as  tender  as  of  eyes  just  wed. 

Lo,  all  hath  yielded  to  the  trance  of  Peace ! 

Not  death  is  here,  but  life  in  sternest  power, 
With  silent,  earnest  tread  that  will  not  cease, 

As  time  hung  from  the  cradle  of  an  hour. 

Oh,  youth-renewing  Night,  praised  be  thy  calm ! 

All  praised  the  reposeful  measure  of  thy  swayl 
The  rent  soul  heal  with  thy  benignest  balm, 

And  touch  December  with  the  wand  of  May. 

Teach  us,  O  Night,  to  know  thee  as  thou  art, 

The  one  supremest  dignity  of  earth ; 
And  in  thy  presence  elevate  the  heart, 

To  feel  the  sense  of  a  sublimer  worth. 

Now  Peace  be  still.     .    sweet  harbinger  of  life  I 

Now  Peace  be  still.    .    the  olive  is  abroad ! 
And  Sleep  shall  find  this  sabbath-time  of  strife 

The  Benediction  of  a  sleepless  God ! 

This  be  the  sacrament  of  silent  love, 
And  token  of  the  everlasting  calm ! 


70  POEMS  FROM  THE  PACIFIC 

Oh,  he  who  understands— him  shall  it  prove, 
And  win  the  worship  of  a  voiceless  psalm ; 

Or  with  thanksgiving  flood  the  shining  soul ; . 

Sweet  Night,  my  love  is  less  than  should  have  been, 
Be  thou  more  near  and  from  my  life  unroll 

The  plad  religion  of  good  will  to  men. 


MISCELLANEOUS  71 


GOOD-SPEED  TO  MEN 

Speed  ye,  Good-speed,  upon  the  race  of  life, 
To  all  men  speed  and  gracious  stars  and  song! 

The  strife  of  good— let  that  become  the  strife, 
And  all  forget  one  thing— forget  to  wrong. 

Alas !  there  is  enough  that  needs  must  be 
To  mock  at  hope  and  cross  our  anxious  way ; 

Let  no  hand  then  afflict  the  prostrate  knee, 
No  wanton  shadow  fill  the  room  of  day. 

'Twere  better  to  raise  up  this  troubled  thing, 
And  brush  some  burden  from  her  onward  path ; 

To  cheer  a  soul  is  easy  as  to  wring, 
And  tender  courage  stronger  is  than  wrath. 

Bid  him  Good-speed,  the  struggling  child  of  pain, 

By  wrong  or  error  or  misfortune  won ; 
He  needs  no  more  cold  links  upon  his  chain, 

Nor  added  gauntlets  of  despair  to  run. 

He  is  most  man  who  blesses  as  he  goes, 
Most  woman  who  inspires  divinest  deeds ; 

Who  circumscribes  the  awful  waste  of  woes, 
Who  heals — as  woman  can — the  soul  that  bleeds. 

Peace,  peace  on  earth,  Good-will,  Good-speed  to  men! 

All  hail  and  triumph  now  and  to  the  end, 
The  endless  end,  when  hope  is  won,  and  when 

Great  man  finds  man  the  universal  friend  ! 


72  POEMS  FKOM  THE  PACIFIC: 


YOLONDE  WITH  THE  YELLOW  HAIR 

Fairest  of  all  fierce  gifts  of  life  I  found 

Yolonde  with  the  yellow  hair  .  . 
•    Her,  the  conflagration  of  the  soul, 
The  glad  foam-dream  made  burning  flesh  again, 

Star-browed  and  fair, 
Forth  broke  from  the  embraces  of  the  night. 

And  it  were  hard  for  more  of  joy  to  be ! 

What  of  the  scented  airs  of  Idum^a 
Or  charm-songs  that  the  siren  choir 
Have  sweetened  of  the  singing  spheres  ? 

To  me  she  is  the  burden  of  all  sweets, 

With  exhalations  of  the  youthful  morn, 
And  music  soft  as  Lydia's. 

Suffer  me  right  near  to  you  Yolonde, 

For  distance  is  despair  / .  , 
To  quit  you  then  were  one  thing  more— despair ! 
Your  being  hath  a  wealth  of  witchery 
Fired  by  that  magician  of  the  heart 

That  turneth  peace  to  madness  .  .  . 
There  are  strange  odorous  stings  about  you 

Caught  mayhap  from  incense-atmospheres, 

The  perfume-worship  of  Greek  goddesses  . 
And  they  steal  forth  with  every  move  of  you ; 

From  your  eyes'  lucid  eloquence  ; 

Beneath  your  pregnant  touches ; 


MISCELLANEOUS  73 

The  draperies  that  hide  your  awful  riches ; 
Your  hair  .  .  your  sharp  wan  hair,  Yolonde ! 
What  young  glad  suns  lent  you  their  gold 

To  stain  it — the  crown 

Whose  silken  scepter  sways  by  Beauty's  force, 
Cast  forth  in  grace  like  circling  comet-light  ? 

But  how  in  this  same  yellow  hair,  Yolonde, 

Shall  I  find  rest  ancl  calm  of  life? 

I  may  lie  in  it  drunken 
And  helpless  beneath  your  fascination  .  . 

Alas !  there  were  such  peril  then, 

Lest  on  your  breasts- 
Falling  in  a  charmed  surrender — 
My  life  shall  hold  its  breath,  and  go ! 

Ceasing  to  be— for  ecstasy. 

Or  in  the  vibrations  of  strange  chords, 

The  inner  temple's  muse, 
Sweet  as  the  love-lisps  of  angelic  tongues, 

Whence,  my  white  captor,  have  you  come, 

Whither  dost  lead  me  with  your  sorcery, 

And  wherefore  to  my  proud  repletion  ? 
Am  I  not  full  enough  of  you, 
Having  you  at  my  soul's  anchorage, 

And  where  my  spirit  fastens  to  its  God? 
Well,  you  are  and  mu^t  be,  th'  interpreter, 

Of  all  of  this  deep  mystery ; 
Illumining  my  labyrinthine  way, 
Crossed  and  up-ploughed  by  dragon-teeth, 
Until  I  find,  by  you  and  with  you, 

The  august,  awful  destiny  1 


74  POEMS   PROM  THE   PACIFIC 

I  saw  you  yester  eve  in  Fancy's  world, 

The  best  and  loveliest  thing  I  could  create 
To-day  I  hold  you  as  a  heaven  won, 
And  have  you  to  my  selfish  self — 

Lost  in  you  or  saved — 
As  you  were  th'  eternal  consciousness ! 

To-morrow — what  ? 
It  cannot  be  without  your  presence 
Preying  upon  the  vitals  of  my  life — 

Further  I  dare  not  question : 
To-morrow  is  loving  Death's  and  Life's, 

The  unknowable  Nirvana ! 

The  oblivion  of  Kest ! 

The 


MISCELLANEOUS  75 


THE  MINISTRY  OF  NATURE 


A  FRAGMENT 

I 

When  in  the  race  of  life  or  care  or  pain 
Weigh  heavily  upon  you  or  the  blight 

Of  disappointed  hope ;  when  come  again 
Vague  forms  of  dearer  days  shedding  the  light 

Of  ghostly-seeming  bliss,  list  to  a  strain 
From  nature  as  her  happy  haunts  invite 

Sincere  communion,  and  attempt  to  feel 

The  peace,  the  joy,  that  she  will  then  reveal. 

II 

Go  forth  alone,  confiding,  and  make  her 
Your  priest ;  confess,  resolve,  amend ;  there  find 

What  you  should  have,  a  worthy  minister, 
And  forms  for  every  taste ;  have  but  a  mind 

To  do  and  be  advised ;  do  not  incur 
A  needless  censure,  but  contrive  to  bind 

In  one  triumphant  whole,  apart  from  strife, 

The  being,  aim  and  end  of  earthly  life. 

Ill 

There  find  society  without  a  sting, 
There  learn  a  language  of  the  sweetest  tone, 


76  POEMS  PROM  THE  PACIFIC 

There  view  the  beautiful — a  perfect  thing, 
There  feel  companionship  with  Peace  alone, 

There  hear  the  melody  that  angels  bring, 
There  know  the  glory  that  alone  is  known     . 

In  atmospheres  of  unity  and  love, 

And  'mid  the  powers  that  melt  and  mould  and  move* 

IV 
Seek  one  of  those  bright-painted  balmy  eves 

That  have  a  vital  freshness  for  the  heart ; 
One  that  a  day  of  storm  so  often  leaves, 

When  Sol's  emblazoned  blushes  slowly  part 
Their  deep'ning  hues  from  eyes  their  absence  grieves; 

When  shimmering  fires  like  angel  beacons  start, 
Weaving  their  scarlet  hair  with  ermine  shrouds, 
And  with  strange  gold  embroidering  the  clouds 

V 
There's  then  a  glory  in  the  trackless  wood 

That  re-creates  us ;  a  sense  that  in 
Its  first  and  highest  sympathy  with  good, 

Inspires  profoundest  awe ;  far  from  the  din 
Of  marts  in  sacred  isolation,  why  should 

There  not  exist  a  presence  half  divine, 
That  may  be  wooed  and  won— and  that  instills 
A  fire  celestial  in  the  soul  it  fills. 

VI 

The  moon  arises  and  her  silvery  beams, 
Soft,  warm  and  feminine,  steal  gently 

O'er  the  hills.  .  a  dream  of  light ;  the  earth  seems 
Filled  with  heaven's  atmosphere ;  the  sentry 


MISCELLANEOUS  77 

Stars  with  eyes  of  gold  look  down  on  streams, 

And  vales,  and  fields  of  sheen,  marking  intently 
How  all  sweet  life  bestows  her  varied  bliss, 
Or  Beauty  pouts  her  universal  kiss. 

VII 
O  woodland  wild !  thou  hast  a  pleasure  dear 

To  me ;  a  something  passionately  loved 
Ever  pervades  thy  throbbing  grandeur  here 

In  these  far  depths  of  solemn  shade  unroved; 
There  is  an  inspiration  in  thy  cheer 

That  leaves  alone  the  bristling  throng  unmoved, 
A  ratifying  grace  and  bounty  given, 
That  draws  the  soul  to  virtue  and  to  heaven. 

VIII 
'Convert  us  to  thee,  Nature !  thy  kind  forms 

Teach  more  impressively  than  words  of  men, 
The  all  beneficence  and  bliss ;  bright  morn's 

Refreshing  gifts ;  its  living  breeze  to  fan 
The  sweet  perfumes ;  the  evening's  glow  that  warms 

Us  into  rapture ;  the  sky's  clear,  deep  span ; 
Night's  mellow  majesty  and  th'  green  glad  sea, 
Conspire  to  fill  our  souls  with  love  and  thee. 


78  POEMS  FROM  THE  PACIFIC 


BIKTH-SONG  OP  APHRODITE. 

I  am  content  that  I  have  conquered  Earth ! 

And  charmed  her  with  deep  mysteries  of  my  birth 

As  huve  my  sisters — awful  mistresses — 

The  planets  of  the  spacious  airy  seas, 

The  universe  of  passion  and  of  man ! 

I  am  content  with  heaven's  bepurpled  plan — 

The  glorious  daughter,  I,  of  Sea  and  Sun, 

Born  when  the  singing  stars  had  just  begun; 

And  Time  beheld  my  shreds  of  yellow  hair; 

And  bowed  before  the  sovereignty  of  the  Fair. 

O,  empire  sweet  of  dawning  consciousness ! 

O,  pregnant  luscious  life-flow !  if  to  bless 

My  being  to  myself  was  bless-ed !  great ! 

And  gracious !  O,  proud !  O,  rapturous  estate ! 

I  lay  encouched  on  foam-flowers  that  rose 

And  fell  in  dreamy  luxury  by  flows 

Of  gentle  seas;  and  fanned  with  swaying  showers 

Of  poppied  fragrance  were  my  young  sweet  hours; 

About  festoonings  were  of  fleecy  spray, 

Winking  wee  jeweled  eyes  at  stars  at  play, 

Sea  kissing  Sky  in  happy  ministry  .  . 

Ah,  now !    the  revelation  of  myself  to  me ! 

My  snowy  nakedness  and  rounded  gifts ! 

Like  creamy  marble,  save  where  color  sifts 

Her  dainty  blushes  through  tralucent  skin, 


MISCELLANEOUS  79 

With  tiny  purple  stains  nestling  therein  .  . 

Smooth  were  all  these — my  gracious  lordly  limbs, 

And  breathing  breasts — all  smooth  and  pure  as  hymns, 

Winged  now  by  my  staff  of  sea  nymphs  .  .  Ah,  joy ! 

Did  I  but  only  with  ray  gold  hair  toy 

Thou  wert  my  own — my  gold  hair  soft  and  warm, 

Prodigal  of  its  voluptuous  form, 

Or  with  two  alabaster  feet,  each  one 

Perfection,  with  pink  toes  nodding  at  the  Sun ! 

And  the  proud  Sea — my  mother — ceased  from  travail ; 

White  flowers  o'erspread  her  bosom,  vast  and  pale, 

Aromas  fanned  her  shining  face  and  mine ; 

She  slept  as  one  sleeps  languid  from  much  wine, 

In  trance  of  bliss — that  in  begetting  me 

Glory  was  hers  throughout  eternity ! 

And  my  great  Sire's  great  face — so  glad  was  it — 

Brightened  with  such  glistening  smiles  as  lit 

The  new  earth  and  skies  with  a  youth  of  gold.  . 

Then  all  the  forms  of  being  did  behold 

My  vivid,  awful  loveliness,  and  great 

The  joy  of  things  that  Beauty  was  create ! 

Joy  was  above  and  all  about  was  joy ; 

Adoring-songs  and  wrestlings  to  employ 

Divinest  ways  of  worship ;  and  I  saw 

How  I  awakened  all !  the  law  my  law ! 

And  things  were  beautiful  because  of  me — 

The  perfect  round  of  my  divinity— 

And  mine  were  mighty  metaphors  of  praise, 

As  forth  I  floated  to  begin  my  days. 

I  am  content  that  I  was  made  so  fair ; 
That  fierce  stars  como  to  nestle  in  my  hair, 


80  POEMS  FROM  THE  PACIFIC 

The  gentle  wavelets  with  most  dear  caress 
Kiss  my  fond  fingers  and  my  flowing  tress, 
»        And  soft  gold  birds  and  silver  fishes  come 
To  sprinkle  pleasure  round  my  path  of  foam : 
Mayhap  yon  tissuey  cloudlets  would  not  flirt 
Bright  faced  and  happy  about  Iris'  skirt — 
The  wonder  painted  goddess  of  the  skies — 
But  to  make  little  raptures  for  my  eyes ; 
Nor  but  for  me  would  yonder  landscapes  fair, 
Breathe  their  swift  passions  to  the  wanton  air, 
Yon  green-haired  glades  and  vales  with  shining  face, 
Glide  into  heaven  with  calm  luxuriant  grace.  . 
All  things,  indeed,  are  charmful  for  of  me ; 
Yea !  Color  stole  from  me  her  mystery ! 
And  blushed  to  the  faces  of  her  flower-waifs, 
O'er  the  pink  walls  of  shell  palaces  and  reefs 
Of  vari-tinted  coral ;  o'er  the  streams 
Of  scarlet  glory  when  my  Sire  sinks  to  dreams 
In  his  Sea's  embrace,  or  arises  thence : 
And  I  it  was  who  woke  magniloquence ; 
Taught  the  musicians  of  the  Sea  their  strains, 
The  shell-songs  their  tune,  gave  the  waves  the  reins 
Of  melody  and  the  winds  their  plaintive  sighs, 
The  winged  things  of  the  air  their  minstrelsies ; 
Born  was  the  muse  of  every  spund  that  sings 
Of  my  vocal  womb  and  woman-whisperings ! 

• 

I  am  content  that  I  have  conquered  Earth ! 
And  made  Life  date  its  sweetness  from  my  birth ! 
Its  sweetness  and  its  meaning  and  its  cause, 
And  Love  find  out  the  thralldom  of  his  laws, 
Death  lose  his  sting  and  victory  by  me — 
The  glory,  glow  and  gladness  of  the  Sea ! 


MISCELLANEOUS  •  81 


SEVEN  SISTERS 

MARY 

The  eldest  was  of  splendid  dignity, 
With  form  of  slender  finish  and  a  grace 
Caught  from  the  presence  of  the  queenly  pine ; 
Maturely  calm  and  gracious  was  her  air, 
Or  beaming  with  restrained  religious  light, 
How  gentler  than  the  glory  of  the  moon. 
Her  words  were  as  the  manna  of  fair  speech 
That  hungry  ears  delight  to  hang  upon, 
Cheered  and  exalted  by  a  goodly  muse ; 
The  eldest  and  the  most  reposeful,  she, 
Observing  that  men  suffer  and  are  blind, 
And  by  sweet  acts  of  good  made  all  men  feel 
The  holy  sphere  of  lady — woman — wife ! 

HATTIE  « 

Nature  to  Hattie  was  less  prodigal, 
Save  as  to  mind;  which  shining,  happily, 
From  patient  culture  and  adornment  rare, 
Was  as  a  trimmed  lamp  in  benighted  ways ; 
Her  speech  asparkle  with  the  life  of  wit 
Was  like  the  infectious  soul  of  wine  or  fire, 
At  once  the  hope  and  courage  of  brave  lives : 
Stainless  her  smile  as  joyous  was  her  laugh, 
Her  heart  as  tender  as  a  violet's  breath, 
Her  modesty  as  gentle  as  the  dove. 


82  POEMS  FROM  THE  PACIFIC 

EMMA 

There  was  a  still  demeanor  in  the  maid, 

A  sweet  reserve  and  self-reposeful  pride, 

Yet  with  a  happy  eloquence  of  act 

That  seemed  like  noblest  charity  at  last ; 

Hers  was  a  quiet  tenderness  and  care 

That  sued  a  cloistered  silence  for  its  use, 

But  like  Ruth's  deeds  with  deep  pure  zeal  bestowed ; 

Her  peasant  blush  was  fair  as  chastity, 

For  from  pure  Dian's  lip  tne  tint  was  ta'en, 

And  traced  as  o'er  the  features  of  a  rose. 

CLARA 

A  bland  brunette — twin-sister  to  the  last, 
And  twin  to  the  fair  god  of  gentle  Love ! 
Her  great  glad  eyes  conjured  the  bright  gazelle, 
But  more  than  these  her  grace;  like  Saadi's  clay— 
Which  when  encountered  bears  perfume  so  long — 
Her  magic  presence  wrought  an  influence  deep, 
And  fraught  with  blessedness ;  and  her  joy-lit  path 
Graced  with  a  life's  white  purity  and  truth, 
Was  well  the  favorite  theme  of  favored  friend ; 
Her  voice*hymned  fervent  syllables  of  good, 
And  strangely  sweet  it  fell  upon  the  heart, 
_^  As 't  came  from  lips  with  which  a  Sappho  sung. 

CORINNE 

All  radiant  was  the  conduct  of  her  walk ; 
Barely  in  womanhood's  beginning, 
She  stepped  the  threshold  with  a  goodly  strength 
Well  formed  acquirements  and  a  high  resolve; 


MISCELLANEOUS  83 

Glad  was  the  facial  rhetoric  she  wore, 
Full  of  impressive  loveliness  and  mirth, 
With  a  nobility  and  chaste  delight 
So  like  the  bride  that  Zampieri  paints. 

FLORA 

She  was  a  blonde— all  winning  as  a  flower, 
With  skin  of  living  and  translucent  white, 
As  smooth  as  lake  of  Uri's  glassy  breast ; 
But  sixteen  sunny  summers  had  she  passed, 
Yet  now  the  binding  beauty  of  her  parts 
Appealed  to  praise ;  light  was  her  frequent  laugh, 
And  her  cerulean  eye,  large,  round  and  clear, 
Just  made  responsive  to  a  star's  quick  smile; 
Her  silken  curls  that  flirted  with  the  breeze, 
And  bounding  elasticity  of  step, 
JEach  suited  well  the  lustre  of  her  spring. 

CARRIE 

The  youngest  was  a  ripple  of  bright  joy ; 
Brown  eyes  and  hair  and  pearly  teeth  were  hers, 
And  an  expression  fraught  with  sympathy,  — 
Inspired  of  girlish  innocence  and  love ; 
The  child  was  sensitive  beyond  her  years; 
Simple  her  wishes  and  her  care  sincere, 
Like  Jessica — tho' ,  not  undutiful, 
With  an  affection  more  to  woo  and  win- 


Observe  the  tender  harmony  and  grace 
That  bound  this  winsome  rosary  of  girls, 
As  in  a  magic  unison  they  dwelt, 
Belike  a  well-tuned  instrument's  accord, 


84  POEMS  PROM  THE  PACIFIC 

Or  single  note  of  an  Azazie  choir : 

No  gilded  passion  lured  them  from  their  path ; 

No  pale  ambition  preyed  upon  their  peace; 

They  sought  their  duty  without  fashion's  show, 

Nor  parleyed  with  the  flippant  ranks  of  pride ; 

So  life  did  pass  them  happy  as  a  dream, 

As  pure  and  clear  as  yonder  star-beam's  light, 

And  it  was  shared  with  others  and  with  good; 

Short  was  the  upright  wording  of  their  creed — 

To  do  right  for  the  love  of  right  was  all — 

Their  earliest  lesson  and  their  latest  deed. 


MISCELLANEOUS  85 


"AH  1  FOR  THE  LOVE  THAT  HAS  NO  VOICE 

But  ah !  for  the  love  that  has  no  voice, 

That  breathlessly  flows  on  its  deep,  deep  way, 

That  noiselessly  murmurs  the  live  long  day, 
Pouring  its  burthens  forth  to  its  choice 

In  liquid  and  swelling  and  nectrous  runes, 

And  the  great  grand  tongue  of  unspoken  tunes ; 
O,  eyes  that  talk  of  a  soul  within, 

O,  eyes  that  shame  the  quick  stars  asleep, 
You  have  won  your  will  that  is  sweeter  than  sin, 

And  caught  my  will  in  the  tyrannous  deep ; 
O,  sweet  abysses  of  eyes  and  lips, 

The  eyes  that  charm  and  the  lips  that  cling, 
I  know  a  porch  whence  poison  drips, 

Fierce  and  sweet  with  the  fire  of  spring ; 
And,  O,  the  eloquent,  wonderful  tales — 

The  freighted  breath  that  bears  to  the  skies, 

The  wild  refrain  of  her  vocal  sighs, 
Death !  I  am  thine  when  their  pleading  fails ! 


86  POEMS  PROM  THE  PACIFIC 


JULIETTE 

My  love  was  born  of  the  womb  of  hate, 

Alas !  for  the  love  thus  sadly  born, 
Alas !  for  the  mark  of  a  barren  fate, 

And  the  cloud  that  darkened  my  rosy  morn ; 
That  hate— half  lovely  for  love's  sake— 

The  parent  hate  slew  its  offspring  love, 
But  not  'till  the  martyred  thing  did  make 

Its  fate  a  rebuke  of  the  curse  that  strove : 
Love's  breath  like  a  stream  of  the  setting  sun, 

Sweetened  my  veins  to  my  finger  tips, 
And  when  our  amorous  day  was  done, 

Each  died  on  the  other's  poisoned  lips. 


MISCELLANEOUS  87 


"I  SAW  THEE  AND  I  LOVED  THEE" 

I  saw  thee  and  I  loved  thee ! 

But  'twere  vain  to  chase  the  cunning 
Of  the  mystery  that  moved  me  .  . 


For  the  thousand  springs  that  gladdened, 
The  ten  thousand  stings  that  maddened, 

Stayed  and  held  my  captured  being, 
O,  were  subtler  than  could  ever, 

Ever  yield  to  simple  seeing : 
All  my  deep  soul's  deepest  knowing 

Felt  and  blessed  the  ministrations, 
Knew  thy  souls  sublime  o'erflowing, 

Keenly  felt  its  inspirations, 
Each  profound  and  pure  bestowing, 

With  affection's  best  endeavor, 

And  the  blessing  of  a  lover. 

I  eaw  thee  and  I  loved  thee ! 
But  I  cannot  tell  the  secret 
Of  the  mightiness  that  moved  me  .  . 


For  Love  in  thy  tresses  nestled, 
Touched  the  rose-hue  of  thy  cheek, 

With  thy  winning  laughter  wrestled, 
Thy  glad  habits  that  could  speak, 


88  POEMS  FEOM  THE  PACIFIC 

Love  provoked  thy  tongue's  persuasions, 

Lit  the  torches  of  thine  eyes, 
Moved  thy  touch's  minstrations, 

And  thy  motions'  melodies, 
And  the  atmosphere  about  thee, 
Had  been  loveless  if  without  thee, 
And  the  magnet  so  imbedded 
In  the  presence  I  had  wedded, 
Drew  me  with  a  power  to  thee 
'Till  my  deepest  soul  did  woo  thee. 

I  saw  thee  and  I  loved  thee ! 

But 't  were  vain  to  seek  the  meaning 
Of  the  ministry  that  moved  me. 


MISCELLANEOUS  89 


THE  COMEDY  OF  EVIL 

Some  lives  will  not  learn  but  of  leaves  of  pain, 

Of  letters  of  iron  and  words  of  frost, 
That  live  to-day  because  yesterday  slain, 

And  are  saved  because  they  were  sorely  lost. 

The  laws  of  life  are  many,  my  child, 
And  far  more  deep  than  the  strange  deep  sea, 

And  are  most  calm  seeming  most  to  be  wild, 
And  most  controlled  where  they  seem  most  free. 

Forth  from  a  perilous,  pitiful  Night 

To  the  fiercely  rapturous  arms  of  Day  .  . 
O,  wayward  storms  of  a  black  hell-light, 
O,  Sphinx  whose  eyes  wear  the  nightmare  of  sight- 
Delusive  lie  of  a  wonderful  way — 

Your  work  is  done  with  its  terrible  good, 
Its  Power,  its  Cleanliness,  Patience  and  Truth, 
The  gray  of  your  age  is  the  gold  of  my  youth, 

And  the  rod  is  resolved  into  sceptre-hood ! 

O,  Comedy  strange !  O,  Lethean  Life ! 

That  measures  bl:ss  by  the  red  white  blood, 
That  leads  to  Peace  by  the  Path  of  Strife, 

Says  to  unripe  Evil  "  mature  to  Good.  " 


90  POEMS  FROM  THE  PACIFIC 

Ah,  man  cannot  live  by  bread  alone, 
He  shall  taste  of  the  whole  great  various  Earth- 
One  prodigal  thing  were  akin  to  dearth — 

And  a  surfeit  of  light  were  worse  than  none. 

To  lose  one's  way  and  to  find  it  anew, 
To  hurt  one's  friend  with  the  heel  of  might, 

Is  the  plan  that  maketh  the  false  ways  true, 
The  shame  that  teacheth  the  wrong  heart  right.  . 

Some  lives  will  not  learn  but  of  leaves  of  pain, 
Of  letters  of  iron  and  words  of  frost, 

That  live  to-day  because  yesterday  slain, 
And  are  saved  because  they  were  sorely  lost. 


MISCELLANEOUS  91 


APHRODITIS— A  PASSION  MONODY 

TO  YOLONDE 

Who  hath  become  godlike  in  Love's  lore — 
The  deeps  of  love-sighs  having  sounded, 
Or  proved  the  purple  travail  in  the  veins 

That  story  forth  the  mysteries  of  bliss? 

0,  Woman !  type  of  beautiful  divineness ! 
Th'  incarnate  rapturous  Cause  art  thou — 
Astarte,  Juno  or  the  Ark  of  worlds ! 

And  if  it  be  a  bitter  thing— yet  will  I  love, 
And  weep  in  Love's  Gethsemane, 

Arising  thence  on  sovereign  wings  of  fire 

As  one  enamored  of  the  light  of  life  .  . 

I  worship  God  in  this  strange  worship, 
And  feel  his  vivid  gloriousness : 

His  sharp  breath  touching  my  life-strings 

With  sweetest  paeans  of  repose  . . 
Becalmed  else  on  Love's  fair  breast  and  His, 

'Neath  gentlest  palpitations  of  white  heaven, 

I  rest  in  the  Nirvana  of  the  soul. 

Bright  inspirations  touch  my  line  of  life 

Like  jewels  on  a  star-path ; 
Una  or  undying  Fiorina, 
Yolonde,  Urline,  JElsea  or  Glaphira — 


92  POEMS  FROM  THE  PACIFIC 

'Tis  a  communing  with  my  greater  self, 

As  stars  do  with  their  suns — 
My  soul-wife,  the  feminine  of  my  being, 
My  counterpoise  unto  a  balanced  whole  .  . 

Her  influence  is  a  scented  spell, 
That  steals  unto  the  subtlest  depths  of  me, 

Till  I  am  lost  in  sweet  duality, 

And  doubly  know  my  blest  completeness ; 
Her  lighted  eyes,  with  mine,  peer  doubly  deep, 
Catching  the  full  sublimity  of  things ; 

Our  words  are  wedded ; 
Our  touches  leap  in  magnetic  marriage  ; 
The  dual  heart  converts  the  dual  will, 

Till  it  be  quick  to  harmony ; 
And  by  the  spirit's  language  do  we  worship 
And  every  sense  bespeaks  the  silent  God. 

I  know  no  being  mightier  than  this, 

Loving,  and  being  loved ; 
For  it  woos  forth  all  grossness  from  our  lives, 

And  sanctifies  them  unto  golden  truth ; 
It  is  the  link  between  myself  and  kind — 

This  woman-worshiping — 
A  covenant  between  my  Lord  and  me, 
That,  charm-like,  draws  me  heavenward. 

Most  happy  I,  when  having  most  of  love, 
And  I  have  most  of  love  when  I  love  most ; 

It  is  the  truth  that  shall  redeem  the  world — 
Possession  in  proportion  as  we  give, 
Enlightenment  as  we  enlighten, 
Salvation  in  the  ratio  thab  we  save, 

The  soul's  own  compensation  in  its  works — 
The  key  to  blissful  immortality ! 


MISCELLANEOUS 

And,  Oh,  confide  with  ample  confidence ; 
Thy  trust  is  darling  as  my  eye's  pupil, 
And  sacred  as  the  chamber  of  my  God ! 

True  unto  thee  is  true  unto  myself, 

And  th'  divine  majesty  of  my  light, 
That  cannot  lead  astray ; 

Thy  faith  shall  make  thee  whole  as  Beauty  is, 

And  lead  thy  soul,  through  me,  to  happiness, 
And  Love's  exalted  adorations. 

Never,  my  soul-wife,  can  I  let  thee  go, 
For  I  have  tasted  of  thy  sweet  infinity, 
And  felt  the  delicious  burnings  of  thy  breath 

Baptise  me  unto  ecstasy ! 
Thy -warm  life  floods  me  with  its  spell 

Like  a  new  sun ! 
And  in  its  potent  emanations, 
I  find  the  sacred  ravishments  of  time, 
And  know  the  blessedness  of  sweet  content. 

Were  I  to  lose  thee,  fair  Creatress, 

Then  would  I  understand  decay, 

And  the  cold  ways  of  barren  famine ; 
I  think  it  better  that  I  had  not  been  .  . 

Else  fashioned  for  no  other  thing 
Than  the  mere  jest  and  minute-toy  of  Fate ! 

What  though  with  fertile  sorrows 
I  irrigate  the  desert  left  to  me, 
Yet  whence  the  warmth  and  pregnant  light 
To  woo  one  blank  oasis  into  bloom, 

Even  of  a  grave's  measurement? 
Nay,  thou  fount  of  all  my  Nile  of  life, 
I  must  have  thee  and  partake  of  thee, 


94  POEMS  FROM  THE  PACIFIJ 

As  thou  wert  the  very  end  of  things, 

Or  key  to  where  no  end  can  be ! 
And  I  will  hold  thee  by  Love's  chains 

That  fasten  where  thy  soul  is  deepest ; 
And  by  Devotion's  singleness, 

That  charms  thee  heaviest 

With  incense  of  its  altars, 
Till  we  are  inter-wed  like  wine  floods, 

And  have,  but  one  identity ! 

O,  slay  me  with  thy  kisses'  scythe,  beloved; 
Thy  kisses  that  are  warm  and  heavenly  moist, 
Conveying  vintages  more  stinging  sweet, 

Than  all  th>  distilled  flowers  of  mother  Earth! 

Thy  presence,  mine,  is  quick  with  joyousness, 
And  th'  weird  prophecies  of  the  Infinite  1 

There  is  no  marvel  that  I  cling  to  thee, 

And  have  thee  to  my  finger-tips ; 
My  consciousness  is  full  of  thee, 

Unto  my  soul's  fastnesses ; 
Thou  art  a  shrine  frieghted  with  miracles, 

And  he  must  yield  who  would  be  God-bound ! 
Thou  art  my  bearer  of  the  lighted  Truth ; 

For  the  Beautiful  has  set  us  free, 
And  the  heart  conveys  the  head  to  majesty, 

And  Arcana  of  exalted  happiness. 

Pr'y  thee,  beloved,  be  not  too  near  to  me ; 

Thy  touch  is  keen  as  lightning's  knife, 
That  cleaves  the  pale  heart  of  night, 

And  leaves  it  trembling  in  wild  wonderment ; 
Even  the  soft  tinseling  thou  wear'st, 


MISCELLANEOUS  95 


Is  instinct  with  strange  quickness ; 
Like  spirit  feet  upon  thin  brittle  glass, 
In  telegraphy  to  its  soul — to  break ! 


The  ring,  see,  has  cut  clean  to  th'  bone ! 
So  these  pregnant  flowers  thou  gavest  me, 

Taught  by  thy  vital  breath  to  breathe, 
Thou  knowest  not  they  burn  and  scald  like  fire.  . 

Howbeit  their  color  is  of  blood— my  blood ! 


Thy  presence  is  a  perfume,  lovely  thing, 

And  when  thou  sighest  with  thy  tender  soul, 
Or  sham'st  the  diamond  with  thy  jewel  tear, 

Thoufill'st  the  world  with  thy  crushed  fragrance, 
And  I  smell  thy  sacred  sweetness  to  my  depths. ! 
Thy  breath's  dews  are  as  spirit  wine, 
And  I  drink  thee — sharper  than  gods'  armita, 

'Till  I'm  renewed  by  angel  healing, 
And  praise  my  God,  through  thee,  for  my  sublimity  I 
Or  speak — and  a  fountain  stream  tinkling 

O'er  stalagma  is  thy  music  speech, 
And  beautiful  as  the  path  of  the  white  fawn 

Traced  out  by  sun-lit  flowers ; 
And  I  am  as  thou'lt  have  me ;  thy  tongue's  convert, 

And  convert  of  thine  eyes  I  am ; 
And  I  yield  unto  thy  eloquence  with  worship ! 

Crying  amen — and  yet  amen — to  thee ! 


Great  souls  love  not  as  the  low  orders  love ; 
Brute  life  is  true  to  its  developemeut, 
Be  so  the  higher  Mind  to  his ; 


96  POEMS  FROM  THE  PACIFIC 

And  let  the  emanations  from  Manhood, 
In  deed  and  word  and  presence, 

Be  noble  as  God's  seal  within  it  set, 
And  mirror  forth  the  everlasting  light ! 


MISCELLANEOUS  97 


THE  MUSE  HUMANITY 

The  unctious  brotherhood  of  men,  O  sing, 
And  music  forth  the  trumpets  of  good  will ; 

The  universal  bliss  attunes  the  string, 
A  new  Muse  hymns  from  forth  the  Sacred  Hill. 

The  later  muse  Humanity — more  bright, 

More  burning  fair  and  wondrous  with  sweet  grace, 

Than  any  yet  born  of  the  womb  of  Light, 
With  laughing  love  enraptured  in  her  face. 

Lo,  a  still  voice  soothes  the  troubled  breast, 
And  calms  the  frigid  torment  of  the  brain  : 

Poor  hands  aweary  find  the  wand  of  Rest, 
And  dying  Hope  new  cause  to  live  again ! 

For  gentle  Love  sits  on  the  throne  of  Might, 
A  noble  Pride  stands  forth  where  Shame  has  stood, 

The  blind  rejoice  that  they  have  found  new  sight, 
The  selfish  that  they  found  their  fellows'  good. 

O,  muse  last  singing  from  the  patient  skies, 
The  pris'ners'  friend  and  friend  of  the  oppressed, 

Show  willful  man  the  cunning  to  be  wise, 
And  bleeding  man  the  pathway  to  be  blest. 

Break  thou,  fierce  Joy,  the  leaden  veil  of  care, 
For  righteous  judgments  rule  the  race  of  man  ! 

The  Curse  has  learned  the  milder  voice  of  prayer, 
Salvation  found  a  far  diviner  plan  ! 

(6) 


POEMS  FROM  THE  PACIFIC 


VENUS  URANIA 

Sweet  Lord,  thy  Daughter ! 

The  radiant  gift  of  all  thy  gifts  concentred.  . 
Thou  knewest  well,  O,  deeply  visioned  Sire, 
There  must  be  cause  for  Worship  and  for  Joy, 

And  the  fair  motion  of  the  steps  of  time ! — 

For  things  stood  death-still  waiting  for  a  sign.  . 
Some  revelation  to  be  wondered  forth, 
That  would  make  chaos  blossom  and  be  glad.  . 

And  lo,  Necessity  is  clothed  with  Beauty ! 
And  Being  with  unheard-of  Eloquence, 

Raining  sweet  unction  on  the  naked  Earth ! 
Now  are  the  heavens  wide  ope'd 
By  fingers  freighted  with  the  sweet  of  life, 
And  the  quick  story  of  our  bliss  revealed.  . 

The  fair  skies  are  fairer  for  her  light, 

The  wan  stars  for  her  illumination — 
Andth'  untried  pulsations  of  young  Time, 

Winged  on  the  purple  couriers  of  Love, 

Have  caught  the  shining  magic  of  her  smile, 
And  to  earth  gave  a  priceless  legacy. 

N  ow,  Joy,[thou  hast  sweet  cauee  in  all  thy  veins ! 

Rebound  thou  over  the  enchanted  hills, 
And  trip  elastic  to  Orion's  arms.  . 

Yea,  thou  shalt  dance  with  moon-beams,  thou, 
And  twirl  thy  snow-hair  about  Caucasus ! 

And  kiss  at  will  the  curled  lips  of  the  sea ! 


MISCELLANEOUS 

Or  thou  shall  wake  the  sleeping  shells  to  song.  . 
The  scallop  chambers  of  all  voices 
Poised  with  the  eternal  harmonies.  . 

All  bird-carolings  and  minstrelsies  of  ocean, 
Wind-melodies  and  pyeans  of  the  pines, 
Attuned  like  lovers  fluted  tongues — 

All  whisperings  of  the  soft-lipped  spheres, 
The  star-Nine — nine  million-fold — 

In  chorus  that  re-echoes  through  the  worlds ! 

And  lo,  in  this  sweet  odorous  name — 

White-browred  Urania — 

Man  may  perceive  the  temper  of  thanksgiving, 
Soul  moved  to  holiest  adorations.  .  • 
That  the  black  Earth  is  green  and  golden  : 

The  lead  sky  lighted  as  with  quicksilver : 

The  cold  Sea  warmed  to  gladness : 
That  the  tyrannic  Seasons  as  they  roll 

Are  the  dear  painters  of  our  varied  selves 

Missioning  for  the  unity  of  joy ; 
That  Darkness  is  a  shell  illumed  within, 

Awaiting  to  become  some  hero's  glory: 
That  all  slight  things  are  yet  unripened  fruit, 

Infected  with  the  everlasting  Good, 
Time-blessed  with  benedictions  for  Eternity. 
Now,  Lord,  I  see  how  very  fair  thou  art ! 

How  bright  thy  brightness  is — 
How  warm  the  warmth  of  thine  eye-lighted  sun  ! 
Thine  eloquence  burns  heartward  with  its  sweet, 

And  trembles  o'er  the  soul-strings, 

A.s  o'er  yon  tremulous  leaves 
The  re-flex  of  the  nervous-lighted  ^ea  ; 


99 


100  POEMS  FROM  THE  PACIFIC 

And  I  know  howiii  thou  art  God's  minister 
For  noble  works — 
Supremest  Wonder — 

Heaven  sent  to  show  the  splendid  Joy  of  Things. 

Sweet  Lord,  thy  Daughter  ! 
She  the  type  of  thy  perfectest  grace, 

Moulded  in  thy  loveliest  sweet  moment : 
Lord  she  is  the  savior  to  most  men ! — 
For  by  her  all  men  prove  they  love  thes 
And  justify  thy  ways  to  human  kind ! 


MISCELLANEOUS  101 


IN  MEMORIAM 


HENRY  WADSWORTH    LONGFELLOW — BORN    1807.      DIED    1882. 

O  ears,  ye  cannot  hear  aright ! 

Or  has  Death  struck  the  A'oices  mute 
That  once  stole  from  a  honeyed  flute, 

Like  couriers  of  vocal  light 

Poised  in  immortal  flight  ? 

Howbeit  the  chiselled  farrows  of  Time's  streams 
Cut  deep  their  resolute  wills,  then  break  apace, 
And  fade  like  very  water  from  the  face 
Of  things  that  die  ....  the  clay  that  maketh  dreams 
Makes  fissures  for  Time's  streams. 

But  the  soul's  whisperings  are  create  of  stuff 
Less  tamely  brittle  to  be  worn  hard  down  .  . 
And  there  are  architects,  or  smile,  or  frown, 
To  mar  whose  works  earth  has  not  fire  enough — 
Made  of  such  living  stuff. 

And  where  his  muse's  finger  touched  my  life 
Or  its  sweet  story  clove  across  glad  eyes 
In  the  divine  engraving  of  the  skies 
Soul-prints  are  cut  nowhere  in  Nature  rife, 
Outliving  Nature's  life. 

Or  where  one  faltered  in  the  weary  hours, 
There  new  force  came  and  light  for  all  dark  ways  .  . 
A  lifted  eyelid  lifted  up  lost  days, 
And  unborn  hope  and  heavenly-quickened  powers 
Awoke  from  weary  hours. 


102  POEMS  FROM  THE  PACIFIC 

A  wondrous  message  calm  as  Luna's  light, 
The  savor  of  all  scented  sweets  it  had, 
The  incense-breath  of  flowers  young  and  glad, 
Strange  fascinations  that  invoked  the  sight    . 
To  fill  it  with  new  light. 

Symboling  the  reward  of  things,  and  joy, 
And  that  for  which  men  live  and  suffer  pain, 
Bared  unto  fire  and  storm  and  night  and  rain 
Of  danger,  toying  with  trouble  as  a  toy, 
Because  of  this  sweet  joy. 

Yea,  charmed  feet  have  traced  the  better  way, 
And  led  Life  forth — the  Muse  of  Energy ; 
Howe'er  may  that  be  lost  whose  ministry 
Is  woven  in  the  fibers  of  your  day 
Each  step  of  all  the  way  ? 

Whose  fair  ambitious  pinnacles  look  through 
To  the  fine  upper  air,  and  columned  face, 
Sculptured  with  glad  curves  of  noble  grace, 
Alight  with  wisdom,  visioned  with  the  true, 
Peers  the  whole  heavens  through. 

Delighting  in  the  wide  sweet  ways  of  heaven 
As  stars  in  the  sun's  light ;  and  full  of  pride, 
That  flowers  of  good  deeds  bloom  on  either  side  ; 
To  him  who  gives  bright  gifts  brighter  is  given 
At  the  wide  hands  of  heaven. 

That  forgets  not  where  once  the  eye  looked  love, 
Or  the  tongue  spake  some  good  thing  with  its  might, 
Or  the  feet  led  one  waif  from  out  the  night, 
Or  a  hand's  pressure  that  was  parcel  of 
A  soul  invoked  by  love. 


MISCELLANEOUS 

That  babbles  not  unto  the  noisy  throng 
Ear-full  of  shallowness,  but  speaks  full  low 
The  heavenly-nurtured  bliss  that  it  does  know, 
Gladlier  than  the  glamour  of  a  song 
Caught  from  some  spirit  throng. 

I  well  know  thou  art  not  dead— nor  can  die ; 
The  spirit's  good—  that  is  the  thing  that  lives 
With  fierce  tenacity ;  the  grace  it  gives 
Tuned  to  the  shining  harmonies  on  high 
Will  learn  not  how  to  die. 

The  soul  ehall  from  its  baser  ashes  rise 
As  chrysalid  from  its  gold  sheath  outgrown, 
Or  Hope  forth  from  Pandora's  prison  flown, 
Delivered  from  Life's  sackcloth  to  the  skies 
Where  the  real  self  may  rise. 

And  thy  great  song  knew  how  to  search  God  out ! 
Pricking  to  worship  true  each  dumb  dead  sense, 
And  binding  it  with  deep  Omnipotence ; 
Aye,  bound  the  soul's  soul  with  a  cordage  stout, 
Searching  the  good  God  out. 

Making  life  worthful  and  most  wondrous  sweet, 
Pregnant  with  great,  glad  purposes,  with  use, 
Born  of  truth's  truth  and  not  of  her  abuse ; 
Hail  to  the  upturned  face  and  winged  feet 
Moved  by  a  muse  most  sweet ; 

Tripping  upon  the  lifted  edge  of  Sea ; 
Or  like  Camilla  with  inspired  bound, 
Scarce  bending  the  grain's  beard  on  the  light  round 
Of  darling  duty,  young  and  wildly  free, 
Quicker  than  the  edge  of  Sea ! 


103 


104  POEMS  FROM  THE  PACIFIC 

And  thy  song's  good  is  rooted  fast ;  as  'bides 
The  brown  s.tain  of  a  lion's  eye  to  life, 
Or  Sol's  warm  breath  to  whom  he  takes  to  wife : 
Yea,  when  the  Sun-lord  slays  his  starry  brides, 
The  good  of  thee  abides. 

And  crowns  men  with  the  laurel  of  sweet  grace, 
The  love  of  all  things  cherished  by  thy  love ; 
Strange  exaltations  and  adorings  wove 
By  threads  of  thee  in  beauty  of  God's  face, 
And  glory  of  his  grace. 


MISCELLANEOUS  105 


THE  CHANGES  OF  THE  SHELL 

Whilom  I  struck  the  changes  of  my  shell, 
The  soul  strings  of  a  varied  instrument, 
To  me  and  to  all  willing  list'ners  lent — 

And  gathered  thus  the  accents  as  they  fell. 

FIRST   CHANGE — FREEDOM 

Kesponsible,  immortal  Choice, 
One  with  the  Disposer,  Will, 
Choice  that  is  proud,  Self-hood's  voice, 
Will  whose  tongue  cannot  be  still, 
Joyous  that  it  can  rejoice — 
0,  privilege  of  weal  or  woe, 

O,  freedom  born  with  birth  of  life, 
O,  death  to  die,  O,  growth  to  grow, 

Desire  that  is  the  darling  strife  .  .  . 
Let  men  pursue  the  loves  and  hates, 

The  pains  and  pleasures  as  they  fly, 
The  truths  and  lies  that  Time  relates, 
And  dare  the  boasts  of  destiny. 

SECOND    CHANGE — WISDOM 

The  wake  that  traverses  the  dark, 

And  hisses  through  the  sullen  gloom — 
Dark  that  hath  no  single  spark, 
Gloom  whose  kinship  is  the  tomb, 
And  no  thing  to  prove  an  ark — 

Now  shall  the  passage  be  of  light, 


106  POEMS  FROM  THE  PACIFIC 

Now  Understanding  lead  the  way, 
One  thing  can  cleave  the  mask  of  night, 

And  bid  its  barrenness  be  day, 
Convert  sweet  Peace  to  be  a  guest, 

Give  Pain  the  summons  to  depart, 
Show  weariness  the  place  of  rest, 

And  happiness  the  troubled  heart. 


THIRD    CHANGE — TRUTH 

The  Truth  of  one  that  is  a  Lie 
When  issued  from  another's  brain- 
Lie  because  it  did  not  cry 
"Train  me  to  a  riper  strain, 
Teach  me  to  arise  and  fly  ".  . 
That  thing  which  is  a  growth  replete, 

The  stature  of  a  word  or  deed, 
The  sweetness  of  a  life  when  sweet, 
The  blood  that's  given  it  to  bleed, 
The  Whole  that  cannot  beg  nor  lend, 

Ripened  fruit  of  earth  and  space, 
Perfection  of  an  act  or  end, 
And  very  head-light  of  the  race. 


FOURTH    CHANGE — VIRTUE 

Virtue—that  is  the  child  of  Truth, 
And  of  whom  Wisdom  is  the  sire — 
Truth  that  is  perennial  youth, 
Fire  that  is  not  made  of  ire, 
That  slays  the  canker  and  the  tooth — 
O,  Strength  where  weakness  would  have  been, 
O,  Health  where  lean  decay  had  clung, 


MISCELLANEOUS 


107 


Teach  aspiration  how  to  win, 
And  youth  the  cunning  to  bs  young, 

Discover  with  thy  sober  charm 
The  triumphs  of  the  passing  hour, 

That  Vigilance  which  conquers  harm, 
That  Temperance  whose  name  is  Power. 


FIFTH    CHANGE — BEAUTY 

Th'  divine  Form  and  Grace  of  things, 
And  th'  quick  soul  of  grace  and  form- 
Things  to  which  completion  clings, 
Form,  O,  stronger  than  the  storm, 
Nature's  happier  offerings — 
God  saw  the  reason  for  this  same, 

The  proud  warm  argument  of  life, 
The  inspiration  without  name, 

The  Beauty  man  would  take  to  wife, 
And  lo !  it  fills  the  earth  and  air, 

O,  sweetness  to  repletion  grown, 
O,  Woman  fairer  than  aught  fair, 
O,  all  that's  charmful  to  be  known. 


SIXTH    CHANGE — LOVE 

The  Love  that  is  the  Soul  of  all, 
And  crowning  victory  of  God ! 
All — replete  as  is  a  ball — 
God  because  outgrown  the  rod, 
Glory  that  outlives  the  gall— 
0,  this  is  that  fair  Queen  of  Kings, 
That  so  well  marries  heart  to  heart, 


108  POEMS  FROM  THE  PACIFIC 

The  vital  Web  that  weds  all  things, 
And  makes  them  to  forget  to  part, 

The  fullest  answer  to  all  prayer, 
The  precious  universal  Leaven, 

Reward  of  ev'ry  cross  we  bear, 

And  Substance  of  immortal  Heaven. 


MISCELLANEOUS  109 


ODE  TO  COLUMBIA 

What  splendid  thing  is  the  theme 

Of  mariners  over  the  sea  .  .  . 
Is  it  fairy  enchantment  or  dream, 
Or  precious  miraculous  gleam 

Of  a  new  maiden-savior  to  be  ? 
But  none  of  all  eyes  that  had  seen, 
Perceived  her  full  stature  or  mem  .  . 
Some  saw  but  the  sweep  of  her  hair, 
As  she  Hashed  through  the  tremulous  air, 
As  she  fled  like  an  arrow  of  fire. 
Others  caught  sounds — as  a  lyre, 
And  some  heard  the  one  word — dare. 
One  said.  .     "In  the  solemn  bleak  night, 
Bound  by  a  tyrannous  fright, 
Her  hand  grappled  hold  of  the  reins, 
And  loosed  ev'ry  chain  of  our  chains  !  " 
Then  said  another,  aghast, 
"  Deep  in  the  deep  sea's  waste, 
When  by  the  wild  skies  tossed 
Ocean  cried  out  as  if  lost ! 
I  saw  this  same  wonderful  form 
Borne  in  the  arms  of  the  storm, 
And  laugh  with  a  shrill  thrilling  glee 
Over  wrath  of  the  sky  and  the  sea." 

Howbeit  some  ships  sailing  West 
With  faint  and  irresolute  helm 


110  POEMS  FROM  THE  PACIFIC 

And  doubts  that  did  nigh  overwhelm, 
'Mid  blank  barren  searchings  for  Rest  .  . 
Saw  this  Token  flash  forth  from  the  sky, 
And  without  asking  whither  nor  why — 
Since  surely  a  Pilot  was  given 
As  the  Sign  of  the  pleasure  of  Heaven — 
Strained  on  like  glad  hounds  through  the  deep 
In  the  wake  of  the  star-lighted  leap. 

And  she  led  them — this  Pilot  of  Peace — 
To  Liberty's  land  of  release, 

Where  heel  never  smote  the  free  soul  .  . 
Or  daring  to  t^e  its  foul  tread, 
Had  died  with  the  things  that  are  dead, 

Or  blended  with  death  in  the  scroll 
That  Life  had  since  worshiped  and  wed 

And  won  to  immortal  control. 

And  lo,  everywhere !  everywhere ! 
Upon  the  magniloquent  shore, 
AVith  its  boiling  and  coiling  and  roar 
Upon  the  weird  wings  of  the  air, 
Afar  on  the  precipice  bare, 
Or  near  on  the  rock-broken  sod, 
This  presence  discovered  her  trace 
Like  a  smile  from  a  heavenly  face, 
As  the  land  were  her  darling  abode  ; 
And  secure  in  a  Genius  of  might, 
In  a  Guardian-Goddess-of-Light, 
The  band  grappled  hard  to  the  strife 
That  prophesied^  Glory  and  Life ! 


MISCELLANEOUS  111 

Ah,  now  shall  these  build  a  race 

And  parent  the  New  AVorld's  plains? 
Aye,  fearling,  these  same  by  the  grace 

Of  the  red  sterling  health  in  their  veins, 
And  the  force  that  is  writ  in  their  face  .  .  . 
There  are,  among  Earth's  mankind, 
Some  souls  that  a  chain  cannot  bind  .  .  . 
Some  souls  so  untempted  by  pelf, 
Some  heroes  so  emptied  of  self, 
That  they  break  from  their  lives'  narrow  pen 
And  dare  a  new  blessing  for  men, 
Nor  query  what  part  they  will  share 
If  hap'ly  they  do  what  they  dare. 


Such  were  the  Spartan-bred  few, 
Inspired  with  the  gift  to  be  true. 

And  waiting  the  gift  to  be  free, 
Here  armed  in  the  House  of  the  Blue 

In  common  with  Sea  and  with  Sea, 

One  morning — some  fierce  days  after — 

With  joy  and  merry  sweet  laughter, 

The  sun— and  with  wandeiing  ken — 

Beheld  this  new  order  of  men, 

And  the  work  their  strong  hands  found  to  do : 

'Twas  a  sight  most  impressive  to  view  .  . 

They  had  dragged  the  wild  brute  from  his  lair 

And  taught  him  to  crouch  at  their  feet ; 
They  had  torn  up  the  rocks  black  and  bare, 

And  planted  their  furrows  with  wheat ; 
They  converted  the  tortuous  coasts 

To  havens  of  smooth  sure  rest ; 
Had  driven  the  red  forest  hosts 

To  the  arms  of  tbe  infinite  West ; 


112  POEMS  FROM  THE  PACIFIC 

On  the  breasts  of  the  young  Thirteen, 
Strange  charms  and  new  graces  were  seen — 
The  wilderness  fled  writh  the  wind, 
And  the  beautiful  sovereignty— Mind — 
Succeeded  the  reign  of  the  Night 
With  auroras  of  love  and  of  light. 

We  will  see  now  what  people  is  this, 
Whether  made  of  the  earth  or  the  sky — 
The  hours  came  forth  with  a  cry 
That  was  born  in  Oppression's  abyss  .  . 
"  Lo,  here  is  a  yoke  for  your  neck — 
That  till  now  hath  no  sign  of  a  fleck — 
Here  are  some  gyves  for  your  feet, 
And  here  some  fresh  wormwood  to  eat : 
They  were  typed  and  made  at  the  forge 
That  is  Kinged  by  the  English  George, 
And  here  are  his  lictors  in  red, 
Sent  to  order  the  work  of  his  head, 
And  cunning  wrought  out  by  his  hand, 
Through  the  height  and  the  depth  of  your  land ! 

Then  ten  thousand  voices  as  one 
Made  reply  to  this  thing  that  was  done  .  . 
"  We  are  men  that  for  conscience'  sake 
Were  compelled  to  give  o'er  and  to  break 
With  the  whole  painted  love  of  the  world ; 
In  dear  Freedom's  name  we  were  hurled 
Upon  Ocean's  tumultuous  breast 
To  this  gem  of  hers  shrined  in  the  West ; 
But  we  found  on  the  rough  welcome  coast 
The  delights  that  our  bosoms  love  most ; 
Found  in  forests  fresh-scented  and  wild, 
In  mountains  of  strength  newly  piled, 


MISCELLANEOUS  113 

In  sweets  of  a  generous  soil, 

In  the  health  and  the  culture  of  toil, 

With  none  to  molest  or  annoy, 

A  peace  and  contentment  and  joy, 

We  never  had  tasted  before, 

Nor  dreamed  it  were  even  in  store. 

"  No  man  have  we  wronged  in  this  thing, 

Neither  Bishop  nor  Sultan  nor  King ; 

We  withdrew  from  the  light  of  the  throne, 

And  rather  chose  darkness  alone; 

To  find  out  in  silence,  apart, 

The  tie  'tvvixt  our  God  and  our  heart. 

"  Think  not  we  will  suffer  again 
The  meanness  and  danger  of  men  ; 
We  have  learned  to  obey  and  deny, 
We  have  learned,  too,  to  live  and  to  die ! 
We've  forgot  to  be  mute  in  our  choice, 
Our  virtues  now  speak  in  our  voice, 
O,  pure  and  sonorous  and  free, 
As  the  story  that  leaps  from  the  sea ! 

"We  will  yield  not  this  fill  of  our  needs, 

This  asylum  of  ours  and  our  s^eds, 

To  any  that  live  while  we  live  ! 

Self-truth  is  no  gift  we  can  give, 

And  no  Master  in  all  of  Life's  van 

Is  i<o  great  as  a  s^lf -mastered  Man, 

Or  fitter  to  rule  his  own  charge, 

Though  e'en  he  were  Thrte  times  a  George." 

Herewith  were  these  Pioneers  smote — 
And  from  many  a  brown  lusty  throat 
(8) 


114  POEMS  FROM  THE  PACIFIC 

That  late  made  its  honest  acclaim, 

There  issued  a  red  liquid  flame, 

That  like  JEtna  a-leaping  on  high, 

Told  its  story  to  eart'h  and  to  sky, 

And  stirred  the  whole  sensitive  land; 

And  lo,  it  arose  heart  in  hand, 

'Rose  from  hiltop  and  valley  and  plain, 

Quick  with  courage  and  muscle  and  brain, 

Unmindful  of  station  or  caste, 

Singly  fired  by  ths  present  and  past, 

Singly  bent  on  defeating  a  fate 

That  was  kindred  to  Hell  and  to  Hate ! 

Ah,  now,  what  a  day  was  begun 

With  thy  red  dawn,  0,  brave  Lexington — 

It  needs  was  a  miracle-morn 

That  saw  a  Republican  born 

Who  would  challenge  the  crowns  of  all  Earth ! 

A  day  with  a  gory  fierce  girth, 

Whose  moments  were  battles  of  pain, 

Each  breaking  a  link  of  a  chain  ! 

No  Patriot  tardy  or  lax 

In  the  glorious  work  to  be  done ; 
When  an  ag-ed  one  fell  in  his  tracks 

His  place  was  re-filled  by  his  son ; 
In  the  homestead,  or  hamlet,  or  hall, 

Firm  women  did  other  than  toy, 
The  wife  armed  her  husband,  her  all, 

The  mother  her  brave  only  boy ! 

Oh,  the  struggle  unequal  and  long, 
Where  weakness  finds  out  it  is  strong ; 


MISCELLANEOUS  115 

In  the  name  of  a  solemn  sweet  cause, 
These  few  dare  the  iron  awful  jaws 
Of  an  Hydra — to  slay  or  be  slain; 
Every  nerve  is  put  forth  to  the  strain, 
With  a  resolute  spiriting  trust, 
That  triumph  was  true  to  the  just, 
And  giants  of  sucklings  are  made 
"When  Right  crieth  upward  for  aid. 


O,  vain  to  oppose,  O  despair ! 

When  there  is  that  in  the  air 
That  maketh  heroes  of  the  very  dead ! 

The  dead  that  die  unto  life, 

That  take  sweet  Victory  to  wife, 
Becoming  glorious  in  the  thing  they  wed. 

As  for  the  quick,  lo,  here  is  Washington ! 
With  his  brave  hand  a  thousand  years  upon, 
Standing  as  that  stands  which  is  a  Sun. 

Melt  ye  the  rock-hills  into  waters  blue, 
Or  stay  the  eternal  tear-drops  of  white  dew, 
Or  hide  the  colors  of  the  warm  sky's  smile ; 

But  think  ye  not  meanwhile 
To  cleave  or  quench  or  kill  this  spirit  born, 
Or  make  Night  pall  the  genius  of  this  Morn, 
Cutting  Man  off  from  all  of  him  that's  true. 

For  Man  so  moved  apace, 
And  filled  with  God-hood  to  the  burning  brim, 

Will  sicken  and  wear  out  stupendous  space, 
Appall  Olympus  with  the  ghost  of  him, 

Forgetting  not  to  vivify  his  place. 


116  POEMS  FROM  THE  PACIFIC 

I  Bee  now  that  Triumph  must  be, 
Nay  that  he  is 
With  all  Columbia  his, 

Wrested  from  the  torment  of  the  sea  .  . 

And  the  prairies  cry,  it  was  our  prophecy ! 

And  the  lakes  reply,  it  was  our  ministry! 

And  Freedom  sings,  it  is  my  Glory! 


Hail  to  this  thing  that  is  born ! 
Hail  to  the  Herald  of  morn ! 
All  hail  unto  her  who  hath  borne 
The  darlingest  gem  Time  hath  worn 
In  the  innermost  shrine  of  his  heart ! 
Oh,  stay !  thou  and  we  cannot  part ! 
Art  thou  not  crowned  as  with  light, 
Thy  forehead  star-jeweled  and  white, 
Are  not  many  balms  in  thy  breast, 
Thine  arms  full  of  rapture  and  rest, 
Who  fitter  than  thou  for  a  wife, 
That  art  the  Aurora  of  life? 

And  now  adown  the  current  of  glad  years, 
Aglow  and  wonderful  as  a  comet's  train, 

The  new  great  race  appears ! 
The  steam-horse  plows  the  everlasting  plain, 

And  golden  lusty  grain 
Doth  wave  beside  the  mountains'  golden  tears. 

And,  lo,  a  splendid  Mind-burst  spreads  its  light 
O'er  the  immortal  Monarchy  of  Man — 
The  sober,  lawful  privilege  began 

To  solve  the  sacred  mystery  of  Might, 
And  make  it  clean  and  white. 


MISCELLANEOUS  117 


A  LAMENT  FOR  CHILDE  HAROLD 


Hark  to  yon  lyre's  converting  strains  of  bliss, 
Sweetly  magnetic  as  from  silver  spheres, 
Descending  from  their  world  to  hallow  this, 
And  wake  the  glad  hosannas  of  the  years ; 
But  lo !  what  hopes  are  stayed  by  waking  fears, 
That  climb  discordant  upon  guilty  bars, 
Harshness  intrusive,  which  that  same  world  bears? 
'  Tis  some  rich  sea  whose  song  its  own  wrath  mars, 
Or  vocal  clouds  of  night  fast  raining  from  the  stars. 


II 

Forsooth  there  are  whose  thought  is  like  a  kite, 
That  soars  a  given  string  and  never  higher ; 
Who  mask  the  broad  immensities  of  sight, 
Or  vainly  burn  the  ashes  of  desire ; 
They  are  dumb  slaves,  for  who  dares  not  aspire 
To  the  poor  verge  of  star- worlds  and  their  lore, 
Is  held  in  darkness,  hid  in  mental  mire, 
A  stumbling  mishap  in  Progression's  door, 
Self-exiled  from  himself  and  Life's  most  precious  store. 


118  POEMS  FROM  THE  PACIFIC 

III 

Not  such  thy  proud  lot,  Singer  of  the  Sea! 
Thy  mind  partook  of  that  thy  wild  lyre  sung— 
The  boundless  nature  of  the  brave  and  free, 
The  summer-time  of  being  strong  and  young  .  . 
And  so  did  live  its  fellow-minds  among, 
A  quick  fierce  thing  whose  flights  were  never  stayed 
By  cell  nor  fetter,  but  whose  weird  tongue 
Baptised  its  music  in  a  fire  far  made, 
Or  like  an  numbered  Nile  o'erswept  where'er  it  swayed. 

IV 

Strange  types  of  men  Parnassus  has  surveyed, 
But  none  have  stirred  a  more  profounder  sense 
Of  pleasure  pierced  with  pain  than  was  conveyed 
By  this  Childe  Harold ;  the  shining  excellence 
That  marked  the  man ;  the  bold  magnificence 
With  which  his  tale  was  told ;  his  feelings  fine, 
And  his  torn  passions,  fertile  and  intense, 
Did  each  and  all  their  earnest  pleas  combine 
To  prove  him  but  part  clay  still  fired  by  the  divine. 

V 

But  that  worst  part  was  of  the  dregs  of  gall ! 
Oh,  what  extreme  conditions  m'ay  possess 
Mysterious  man  !  nothing  at  once,  and  all ! 
Angel  and  fiend,  god-slave,  a  wilderness 
Of  strewn  spent  mightiness,  a  force  to  bless 
And  curse  at  will— and  such  the  problem  Childe — 
Rising  and  falling  with  a  proud  distress — 
Now  a  glad  summer  by  soft  suns  beguiled, 
Now  night,  Oh,  trebly  dark  and  chaos  rent  and  wild. 


MISCELLANEOUS 

VI 

Hast  thou,  Apollo,  ever  known  a  son 
So  strong  at  once  and  weak,  whose  sky-brought  fire 
Was  speeded  out  ere  half  his  day  was  done  ? 
Aye,  one ;  that  strange  self-tortured  slave,  whose  lyre 
Was  frenzy's  toy — Rousseau — he  to  admire 
Must  love,  and  loving  rave,  and  raving  mould, 
Convert,  lead  captive  by  his  splendid  ire ! 
Both  like,  yet  all  unlike ;  the  one  a  bold, 
Bright  conut  was — the  last  a  molten  stream  of  gold. 

VII 

He  stood  alone,  a  child  of  pain  and  passion ! 
Kin  to  the  storm-god,  and  dark  forests,  and  the  sea, 
And  flowers  of  night ;  for  a  less  strange  relation 
Was  bene.ith  his  soul,  and  others  died  where  he 
Drank  with  a  wild  thirst  this  awlul  mystery, 
Fatting  upon  the  draught.     Nay,  not  alone ! 
All  restive  things  were  of  his  company ; 
The  insane  roots  had  mixed  in  him  and  grown, 
'Till  he  was  re-create  and  statured  bone  by  bone. 

VIII 

His  life  was  but  a  tragedy — enacted, 
As  are  most  such  'mid  diamonds  and  dust, 
Delights  and  daath ;  and  while  not'  protracted 
Closed  doubly  unfulfilled  ;  nor  by  the  thrust 
Of  want  or  eating  care,  nor  the  chill  must 
Di-ease  deliberates  was  he  subdued, 
But  by  the  affection's  war,  the  fierce  lust 
That  woos  satiety  and  her  sickening  brood, 
A  sacrifice  self-slain  amid  a  self-sought  feud. 


119 


120  POEMS  FROM  THE  PACIFIC 

IX 

Yet  far  with  him  has  many  a  lover  strayed, 
And  drank  with  him  deep  draughts  from  Beauty's  well, 
And  joyed  with  him  all  that  his  joy  essayed, 
And  mourned  with  him  when  blight  that -joy  befell, 
Until  he  yearned  to  live  the  darling  spell, 
And  linger  alway  at  the  varied  feast — 
Dear  Art's  and  dearer  Nature's  festival — 
Nor  would  he  from  such  summer  be  released, 
Nor  further  unction  ask  of  either  prince  or  priest. 

X 

And  such  have  been  who  more  than  all  beside 
Loved  this  unstaid  creation— this  dark  light- 
Most  wondrously ;  for  'twas  to  them  a  bride 
Unsexed  and  wedded  by  the  soul's  warm  rite, 
And  shrined  within  the  soul  from  common  sight; 
Beloved  the  more,  not  for  its  waywardness, 
But  that  this  wooed  forgiveness,  wherein  right 
Is  most  righteous,  and  does  most  impress, 
And  woo  in  turn  Love's  heart,  which  wooing  is  to  bless. 

XI 

And  with  this  sense  and  sympathy  most  sweet, 
Many  a  swain  his  being  bade  to  grow ; 
'T  is  youth  echoed  in  youth  ;  warm  spring  replete 
With  spring's  fresh  fountains  and  unebbing  flow 
Of  beaming  bursting  life  ;  none,  none,  may  know 
So  well  as  youth  the  all  that  youth  endures, 
For  age  forgets  its  morning  and  its  glow, 
The  season  of  young  loves  and  young  allures; 
And  that  sufficient  red  oft  crushing  while  it  cures. 


MISCELLANEOUS  121 

XII 

Between  glad  hopes  and  bitter  memories, 
There  is  a  fitful  yet  immeasured  space 
Deep  as  thought  is.     Stern  facts  and  fallacies 
Strain  their  last  sinews  in  the  telling  race, 
And  the  victor  finds  him  on  the  top-most  place, 
Or  else  the  least :  so  one  is  youthf ul  spring, 
Leaping  with  his  red  quick  pulses  in  the  chase, 
The  other,  winter — a  spent,  tired,  barren  thing, 
That  mocks  with  his  dumb  mouth  and  pierces  with  his  sting. 

XIII 

There  is  a  grand  necessity  in  living, 
Without  which  life  were  emptiness — distress ; 
A  dream  most  troubled  and  a  toy,  giving 
Perchance  amusement  but  not  happiness, 
Naught  that  can  truly  charm  or  surely  bless ; 
But  in  this  stern  and  unescapable  must 
Dwells  that  which  gives  taste,  tone  and  measureless 
Impulse  to  our  being — warming  the  dust 
That  else  would  chill  and  clog  arid  curse  with  sluggish  rust. 

XIV 

/ 

So  Life  is  not  the  chapter  of  a  spell, 
The  hollow  sounaand  shadow  of  a  thing, 
Else  why  does  it  unto  the  heaven's  swell, 
And  from  a  thousand  worlds,  their  secrets  wring, 
And  unto  them  its  potent  fire-pulse  fling, 
Search  the  sea  depths  and  secrecies  of  space, 
Fill  nature  with  its  quick  inhabiting, 
Infinitude  loud  challenge  in  its  race, 
And  e'en  o'er  vanquished  Death  assert  its  pregnant  place  ? 


122  POEMS  FROM  THE  PACIFIC 

XV 

Aye !  turn  from  yonder  rabble's  noisy  store  ! 
For  gold,  not  glory,  fills  them ;  the  dead  weight 
Of  covetous  to-day,  corpse-like,  hangs  o'er 
Man-forms  ordained  for  worthier  freight ; 
No  marvel  thou  dost  sicken  in  this  state, 
This  strata  of  disease  and  hungry  dearth, 
Mirage  of  night  and  dust  insatiate  ; 
Thou  art  a  stranger  to  their  earthy  earth, 
Who  without  human  weal,  would  measure  human  worth. 

XVI 

So  let  them  hiss  and  hate  thy  hatefulness ! 
Their  own  is  greater  who  conceal  their  sin, 
And  falsely  great,  brand  others  vilely  less; 
Let  none  unjudged  too  proudly  judge;  for  in 
This  world,  this  labyrinth  of  life,  we  scarce  begin 
Our  errand  ere  we  pause — pause  but  to  err, 
To  wrestle  with  uncertainty  and  din, 
And  darkness,  then  distress ;  life's  fledgling  stir 
Woos  foreign  aid,  the  last  as  well  a  minister. 

XVII 

And  they  do  crown  poor  vanity  who  cr,y, 
"  I  am  more  holy,  brother  worm,  than  thou," 
Where  all  are  wanting  in  truth's  constancy  .  . 
Expel  the  beam  from  'neath  thine  own  dark  brow, 
That  better  thou  may'st  teach  thy  betters  how ; 
Let  thy  reviler's  shout,  unclean,  lose  sound 
For  very  shame.     Ah,  could  all  men  but  bow 
Like  Nazareth  to  Right's  most  royal  round, 
None,  none,  would  cast  the  stone  which  their  own  flesh  would  wound. 


MISCELLANEOUS 

XVIII 

Yea,  turn,  to  Nature's  tongues  and  be  as  they, 
Young  with  the  beauty  of  fair  life,  and  glad 
With  sweet  reposa  of  power ;  what  they  essay 
Is  the  soul's  parad  83  of  peace :  O,  had 
You  stay'd  and  drank,  poor  htart,  ere  in  a  mad 
Maturity  you  thirsted  for  such  drink, 
With  scarce  a  sen?e  to  find,  it  far  lecs  sad 
Had  been  your  fate ;  and  far  less  would  you  shrink 
From  life  wherein  you  lie  a  lame,  unwilling  link. 

XIX 

Yet  shall  thy  blood-tears  purge  thy  travailed  soul, 
And  life's  strong  chastisement  and  bittsr  sweet, 
Baptise  and  re-cre.ite  thee :  thy  proud  goal 
Shall  be  a  strange  thanksgiving  all  replete, 
With  an  all-conquering  love ;  when  thy  strayed  feet — 
Forgetful  of  their  pilgrimage  of  fire — 
Shall  stand  truth  tried;  and  thy  great  self  shall  greet 
The  source  of  greatness  where  each  proud  desire 
Shall  covet  Wisdom's  wealth  and  mount  forever  higher. 


123 


124  POEMS  FROM  THE  PACIFIC 


THY  NAKED  FEET 

Sitting  by  thy  naked  feet, 
Farinella,  lovely  thing, 
Magical  emotions  spring, 

Filling  th'  fonts  of  life  replete- 
Sitting  by  thy  feet. 

Worshiping  two  marble  feet, 
Streaked  with  tiny  truant  veins, 
Purple,  pretty,  precious  stains, 

Let  time  be  less  cruel  fleet — 
Worshiping  thy  feet. 

Holding  two  white  fairy  feet, 
How  oft  the  couriers  of  joy, 
Bearers  of  laughter,  chaste  and  coy, 

Let  Pleasure  pipe  an  homage  meet — 
Holding  fairy  feet. 

Loving  slight  ?nd  tender  feet, 
Carved  like  ivory  keys  to  thrill, 
Brain  and  breast  alike  they  fill, 

Heart  of  hearts  with  raptures  beat — 
Loving  tender  feet. 


MISCELLANEOUS  125 

Petting  pink  and  lily  feet, 

Soft  and  warm  and  closely  pressed, 

Deep  their  lover's  dear  unrest, 
"White  round  ankles  peep  and  greet — 

Petting  lily  feet. 

Caressing  both  thy  velvet  feet, 

Drinking  blisses  warm  with  sighs, 

Bound  beneath  seducing  eyes, 
Love !  prolong  this  heaven  sweet — 

Caressing  velvet  feet. 


126  POEMS  PEOM  THE  PACIFIC 


THE  GARDEN  OF  THE  SEA 
A  REVERY  ON  THE  BIRTH  OF  CALIFORNIA 


Once  when  the  stars  in  wonderment  stood  still, 
And  from  Sierra's  cre;4  the  plumes  of  night 
By  torches  of  red  flame  were  cleft,  and  down 
Fierce  slopes  the  lava-dragon  crept  hissing 
To  his  watery  lair,  hidden  and  deep, 
Lo,  Sea's  va^t  travail  stormsd  again  ;  as  when 
In  earlier  wrath,  firs-armored  and  severe, 
She  carved  the  Himalayas  of  the  West, 
And  bade  them  awe  the  land  ! 

Dawn  came !  and  lo ! 
Upon  the  horizon  dim  the  tragedy 
Of  a  later  Coast  had  been  !  now  calm  in 
Titan  majesty.    Pacific's  main  a 
New  shore  lashed,  yet  warm  with  heat  of  conflict 
Between — still  kissing  the  Sierra's  feet — 
A  shallow  sea,  pearl-breasted  and  serene, 
Lay  like  a  liquid  dream. 

And  like  a  dream 
The  panorama  of  its  being  passed. 
Adown  the  slopes  quick  streams  of  molten  rock 


MISCELLANEOUS  127 

Poured  ceaselessly,  fringing  the  sea  about 
With  vesturings  of  steam,  ghostly  and  wan, 
While  mid-saa,  too,  whit 3  vapor-fountains  rose, 
Climbed  the  swift  clouds  and  then  rained  back  again. 

But  when  night  came,  black-browed  and  terrible, 
Came  also  sights  to  marvel  at.     The  Sea's 
Breast  with  fiery  nipples  flashed  and  burned ; 
Now  high  in  air,  now  low  in  terraces 
Of  iridescent  flame;  now,  above  all, 
Shafts  of  slender  red  bursting  at  the  top, 
In  blossoms  of  pale  blue,  and  sheafs  of  light, 
Illumed  the  purple  lawns  and  tinged  with  soft 
And  vari-colored  tones  the  vapory  plumes. 
Anon,  red  bubbles  on  the  troubled  waste, 
Chased  one  another  to  some  sudden  gap, 
Where  now  in  lofty  wonder  rose  a  vast 
Portiere  of  fluid  earth,  festooned  and  arched, 
And  livid  with  metallic  light.      Above 
The  burning  flora  mountain  craters  burned : 
On  either  side,  Coast- wise  and  Sierra, 
The  very  hills  had  'ife  and  the  stern  crags 
Swayed  in  a  passionate  torment.     Afar, 
Red  tongues  the  lowering  cloudlets  lapped; 
And  torches,  fierce  with  fiery  agony, 
Lit  the  mute  realm. 

Upon  the  noiseless  pinion 

Of  young  Time  strange  chances  came.    Fire-flowers 
For  flowers  of  frost  were  changed,  and  the  Ice-god 
Dominion  held  o'er  the  lame  Lemnian's 
Forges  of  red  woe.     '  Twas  but  a  different 
Violence ;  for  soon  with  scimeter  keen 
The  Frost-king  smote,  splintering  the  crags, 
And  cafions  yawned  where  ploughed  the  avalanche. 


128  POEMS  FEOM  THE  PACIFIC 

What  metamorphosis  befell  the  Sea  ? 

Fire,  ice,  the  storm  and  torrent  ceased  them  not — 

While  years  sped  lazily  like  drifting  sands 

Upon  the  bosom  of  this  lessening  waste — 

'Til  it  was  Sea  no  more !     All  elements 

Made  it  the  garden  of  their  jubilee. 

Isles  and  moraines,  all-sized  and  vari-shaped, 

Rose  from  the  weary  waters  and  outspread 

Erewhile,  to  join  the  ever  narrowing  shore. 

New  forces  came,  lightning  and  the  northern  blast, 

And  from  rent  aiguilles  the  torrent  leaps 

With  thunderous  laugh,  sundering  the  hills, 

And  headlong  gathering  the  mountain  streams, 

Bears  their  black  fruitage  to  the  lowland  waste. 

With  rumbling  tread  the  glacier  stalks  abroad, 

Moulding  the  valley  slopes  and  sculpturing  forth 

The  pathway  of  the  rivers  of  the  plain. 

What  thing  sublimely  cradled  thus  has  come 

Of  all  these  wondrous  alchemies  and  forms  ? 

From  chain  to  chain  a  radiant  land  now  sweeps, 

With  swells  as  gentle  as  the  ancient  sea, 

And  flowered  as  fair.     But  lava-leaves  and  rods 

Of  flame  and  plumages  of  vapory 

Flora,  magical  with  dainty  colorings, 

For  the  red  rose  is  changed  and  fruited  vine  ; 

And  for  the  Sea's  soft  green,  stretches  of  grass; 

While  patient  grazing  herds  now  shade  and  dot 

The  drowsy  undulations  of  the  downs. 

From  snow-clad  crests  slight  streams  leap  down  the  la] 

Of  mountain  canons  and  glide  forth  gladly, 

Watering  the  plain.    Bright  yellow  grain  is  here ; 

Orchards  purple,  mauve  and  russet  with  rich  stores ; 


MISCELLANEOUS  129 

While  moss-grown  pines  climb  the  gradual  slopes 
And  sweep  in  forests  that  astound  the  earth ! 
This  is  the  thing  that  Sea  and  Fire  have  wrought— 
Fair  California  with  her  golden  fruit, 
The  Garden  of  the  New  Hesperides ! 


(9) 


130  POEMS  FROM  THE  PACIFIC 


GLORIA   MILITAIRE 

Ah,  me,  if  thine  own  hand,  perchance, 

Should  slay  thee,  France, 
Ma  belle !  Ma  belle !  the  fairest  of  the  brides, 

Put  out  thy  great  glad  eyes, 

Light-bearers  of  the  skies, 
And  spill  thy  scented  red  upon  the  tides— 
Who  would  bear  on  the  guerdon  of  thy  glance 

When  thou  art  dead,  sweet  France  ? 

The  knife  that  brings  keen  tears  to  start 

Forth  from  the  heart- 
Ma  belle !  Ma  belle !  put  thou  it  by,  forsooth, 

The  white-flamed  tongue  of  hell, 

That  tells  thy  mocking  knell, 
As  of  one  cut  death-wise  in  th'  dream  of  youth— 
Where  stands  he  who  would  work  thy  wondrous  part 

If  thou  wert  dead,  dear  heart? 

No  dagger  will  begirt  the  side 

Of  Earth's  true  Bride- 
Ma  belle !  Ma  belle !  disarm  before  too  late, 

And  spurn  the  hardihood, 

Whose  valor  is  in  blood, 
The  false,  red  lie  of  an  ignoble  fate  .  . 
Else  how  can  we  the  stricken  night  abide 

When  we  have  lost  our  Bride? 


MISCELLANEOUS  131 

The  spent,  torn  toys  of  childhood's  play, 

Man  puts  away — 
Ma  belle !  Ma  belle !  thou  seemest  ripe  and  fair, 

Thy  neck  curled  like  the  sea, 

And  thy  feet  wondrously 
A-nestle  'neath  hewn  meshes  of  bright  hair — 
How  shall  Time  know  that  Earth  has  reached  her  May, 

When  thou  hast  fled  away  ? 


132  POEMS  FROM  THE  PACIFIC 


"GOME!" 

Above  all  sounds  of  the  eloquent  earth, 

A  cry  smote  my  ear 
Like  a  rose's  cry  as  it  springs  to  birth, 
One  slight  wild  word,  but  a  heaven  of  cheer, 
A  lisp  that  conveyed  all  the  songs  of  a  year — 
"Come!" 

To  that  which  in  one  is  your  white,  red  and  blue, 

All  below,  all  above, 
To  the  Augusta  and  Lucia  of  you, 
To  the  bosom  all  burdens  of  balm  are  of, 
To  her  your  embrace  and  your  soul  of  love — 
"Come!" 

If  joy  be  sought  by  your  staggering  feet, 

Or  bliss  be  your  quest, 

If  you  yearn  to  discover  the  sweets  that  are  sweet, 
If  eager  to  find  out  the  way  that  is  best, 
If  weary  in  search  of  the  jewel  of  rest — 
"Come!" 


MISCELLANEOUS  133 


MEMORIA  IN  ETERNA 

Yea,  passion  can  be  still  as  very  Death ! 

Or  as  a  frighted  god  stand  fixed  and  white  .  . 

But  in  the  depths  of  it  there  is  a  might 
That  like  old  Ocean's  soul  can  hold  its  breath- 
All  still  as  very  Death ! 

When  the  bright  colors  of  the  grass  are  lost, 
Or  from  the  serpent's  side  the  stripes  are: bleached, 
Remembrance  having  thus  far  fully  reached 

May  falter  with  the  burden  it  held  most— 
When  the  Earth's  green  is  lost ! 

For  some  sweet  things  scar  deep  into  the  soul, 
As  well  he  knows  who  whilom  held  Love's  hand  .  . 
And  like  a  Cain  thenceforward  wore  a  brand 

That  typed  Love's  story  on  his  being's  scroll — 
Well  cut  into  the  soul ! 

O,  wondrous  record  from  the  fair  new  Sea 
More  wildly  sweet  than  Sinai !  ah,  God ! 
There  are  who  say  thy  other  name  is  Good  .  . 

And  she  is  that  bast  good  and  grace  to  me, 
Thou  gavest  from  the  sea ! 


134  POEMS  FROM  THE  PACIFIC 

For  she  did  move  the  motion  of  my  life 
With  force  that  fails  not  .  .  taking  sweet  deep  root 
Within  the  soul-pulse  and  with  noiseless  foot 

Searched  the  dead  depths  of  me — now  quick  and  rife 
With  new  undying  life. 

0,  Joy !  quicker  than  fire !  O,  Hope  of  things ! 

0,  gracious  gladness  mighty  with  delight ! 

0,  subtle  sweet,  delightfuler  than  might ! 
Ah,  me,  no  fiercer  laughing  unction  springs 
From  the  fair  Hope  of  things ! 

The  keenly-chiseled  foot-prints  of  wan  Time 
Are  deep  enough  .  .  full  deep  the  maelstrom  nests, 
The  dark  incisions '  twixt  the  mountain  breasts, 

Grief-lines  that  pierced  our  common  Mother's  prime, 
And  seamed  the  face  of  Time : 

And  this  were  true,  what  of  the  circling  arms 
That  dammed  th'  enamored  currents  of  the  throat, 
Palsied  as  a  white  snake's  folds  had  smote  .  . 

A  first  and  last  dumb  sepulchre  of  charms — 
Deep  beneath  circling  arms ! 

What  of  her  speech,  alas,  forged  with  white  fire ! 
The  tongue's  soft  tremor  or  the  eyes'  sweet  stream — 
A  dream  of  language  stranger  than  a  dream — 

A  wing-ed  sense  as  subtle  as  desire, 

Twin-born  with  keen  white  fire  ! 

Upon  her  shoulders  light  couched  low  in  sleep  .  . 
But  her  mouth's  curl  was  quick  with  a  red  kiss, 
Clean  as  the  lips'  breath  of  chaste  Artemis, 
•  That  scarce  had  drawn  a  sigh  from  Love's  dear  deep — 
Unwaked  from  virgin  sleep. 


MISCELLANEOUS  135 

Or  where  some  yellow  shreds  of  hair  were  blown 

Across  the  languid  prisons  of  the  eyes  .  . 

The  light  that  has  fulfilled  its  uses  dies, 
And  a  new  sense  charms  forth  since  that  has  flown  — 
Where  shreds  of  hair  were  blown! 

Ah,  Yolonde  of  the  sunny  heart !  Ma  Belle ! 

Thine  was  the  quick  god-breath  by  which  I  am  .  . 

That  from  white  silence  dead  conjured  a  psalm 
Of  life — miracle  of  thy  potent  spell — 
O,  mighty  heart !  Ma  Belle ! 

One  may  forget  to  hunger  and  to  thirst, 
But  not  the  torment  where  the  fierce  lip  clung, 
The  grape  whence  the  last  sacrament  was  wrung 

That  could  renew  a  spirit  when  accurst — 
And  prompt  immortal  thirst  ! 

Yea,  passion  can  be  still  as  very  Death  ! 

Or  as  a  frighted  god  stand  fixed  and  white  .  . 

But  in  the  depths  of  it  there  is  a  might 
That  like  old  Ocean's  soul  can  hold  its  breath — 
All  still  as  very  Death ! 


POEMS   FROM  THE   PACIFIC 


WALT  WHITMAN 
I 

Of  the  sages  and  singers  and  sons  of  the  vigorous  West, 

Of  the  great  hearted  land 
That  is  fiercely  athiret  for  the  mightier  races  of  Life, 

One  man  stood  aloof — 
A  singer  and  teacher  and  hero  more  brave  than  the  rest, 

Whose  voice  smote  the  soul 
Like  the  sweet  grand  alarm  of  a  new  sea  broke  into  sound! 

II 

There  is  the  marvel— America— forth  typed  in  a  man ! 

With  front  like  the  storm, 
And  eyes  that  peer  down  to  the  shell  covered  beds  of  the  seas: 

With  shoulders  of  iron, 
That  the  hung 'ring  blasts  slirirk  back  from  as  wolves  from  a  fire; 

With  limbs  keenly  knit, 
Like  the  tireless  stout  shafts  that  prop  up  a  mountain  of  beryl ; 

And  a  great  sun-like  soul 
That  pours  its  warm  cheer  upon  deserts  that  break  into  flowers  ! 

Ill 

ind  this  is  the  same  that  of  babes  and  of  sucklings  was  taught, 

That  the  birds  and  the  beasts 
.ind  the  trees  and  the  eloquent  streams  conversed  with  and  loved, 

That  the  heart-beat  of  men 
iwakened  and  thrilled  as  a  brother  was  born  to  the  Earth! 


MISCELLANEOUS  137 

IV 

And,  lo,  where  men  suffered  a  new  fellow  sufferer  came, 

And  with  warm  tender  hand 
Bound  up  the  rent  sores  and  requickened  the  hope  that  was  dead ; 

Or  where  one  fell  down 
Benighted  and  spent  mid  the  tortuous  gauntlet  of  life, 

A  helper  of  strength, 
With  fresh  light  in  his  face  conducted  the  wayfarer  on. 

V 

He  stands  breast  high  and  heart-bound  with  all  that  humanity  is : 

From  the  frail  human  bud, 
To  the  dark -minded  bawd  and  the  prisoner  bayed  by  his  faults ; 

And  gives  these  strange  gifts 
Of  Courage  and  Faith  and  sweet  Sympathy  warmed  in  the  soul ; 

Or  if  want  weighs  them  down, 
While  his  right  hand  knows  not,  his  left  hand  finds  good  things  to  do. 

VI 

For  this  is  the  comrade,  the  helper,  the  lover  of  men : 

And  the  poet  of  peace : 
Of  Good- will,  Fraternity,  Honor  and  Love  that  is  great  .  . 

And  the  strong  numbers  roll 
Like  the  tread  of  the  Wind  over  forests  of  brotherly  pines, 

Or  sing  out  mid  the  morn 
The  joyous  young  song  of  the  Now  and  the  hopeful  To  Be  ! 

VII 

O,  goodbringer  of  Light! 
O.  Energy,  born  of  the  opulent  fire  of  the  skies ! 


138  POEMS  FROM  THE  PACIFIC 

In  whose  wonderful  soul 
The  birth  and  the  death  throes  of  all  things  are  voiced  in  their  mig 

You  have  broken  fresh  seals, 
And  new  vials  brought  forth  whose  contents  climb  back  into  hea\ 

Light  winged  and  most  glad, 
Impregnate  with  Good  and  the  harmonies  married  to  love  ! 


MISCELLANEOUS  139 


FOR  WOMAN'S  SAKE 

As  the  glad  sun  upon  the  expectant  earth , 

A-sparkle  with  the  lover- smile  of  heaven, 

Bids  life  come  forth  in  rosy  robes  of  joy, 

So  dost  thou,  sweet,  reverse  the  force  of  sex, 

And  move  me  to  sublimest  sovereignty  ! 

Yea,  all  the  juicy  leaves  of  Hope  appear, 

As  '  twere  the  jocund  time  of  Spring ;  the  vale 

Is  quick  with  song,  and  to  the  mountain  top 

Life  is  pursued  how  gladly  for  thy  sake, 

Strewn  with  brave  toil  and  fruitage  of  fair  thought. 

Thus  is  thy  sweet  will  done  by  strength  of  thee — 
Fair  Goddess  of  the  harvest  of  the  earth — 
And  in  the  magnet  of  thy  radiant  eyes, 
The  miracle  of  thy  touch  swrifter  than 
Quicksilver ;  lo !  the  wonder-working — 
Fierce  as  the  white  heat  of  stars  !  that  paints 
Poor  Time  with  colors  of  Eternity, 
And  wakes  the  tongue  to  everlasting  tune! 


MO  POEMS  FROM  THE  PACIFIC 


"  THROUGH  THE  RAYS  SERENE  " 


ON  AN  INFANT'S  DEATH 


Through  the  rays  serene  of  a  morning  sun, 
By  heaven  blessed  and  by  beauty  won, 

A  tiny  dewdrop  fell ; 
In  an  acorn  cup,  a  retreat  it  found, 
And  the  moments  sped  in  a  gentle  round, 

Above  the  sparkling  cell. 

But  twilight  followed  the  sinking  sun, 
And  night  pursued — its  day  was  done — 

Short  was  its  earth-life  breath : 
A  frost  approached  with  a  ste  ilthy  bound, 
And  about  the  gem  his  cold  arm  wound, 

And  the  change  was  counted — Death! 


MISCELLANEOUS  141 


SHASTA 

List  ye !  the  monarch-mountains !  from  their  thrones 

That  boldly  pierce  the  jeweled  vaults  of  blue, 
To  the  lulled  plain  below  there  echo  tones 

Of  massive  minstrelsy.     '  T  is  not  for  you 
Nor  me  to  know  them  half ;  yet  their  rock-bones 

Have  converse  and  an  eloquence  most  true, 
And  rapturous  born  with  their  birth  of  fire  .  . 
Pause,  ye,  and  list  to  Nature's  magic  lyre ! 

Ambitiously  they  raise  their  white  brows  to 

The  sky  and  stand  in  majesty :  broken 
And  wild,  and  vast,  and  steep,  and  stern,  but  true 

To  awful  order :  e'en  their  frowns  betoken 
Greatliness,  and  forest-robed  or  nude,  new, 
Old,  convulsed  or  calm,  here  is  outspoken 
Joy  that  thrills  the  startled  air,  and  a  glee, 
That  shakes  the  earth  with  its  fierce  comedy. 

Unto  thy  august  and  commanding  heights, 

Thou  dome  of  rocks  and  monument  of  power, 
Let  me  my  tribute  bring :  thy  mien  invites 

Profoundest  reverence :  not  thine  to  cower, 
Nor  yield  thy  might  nor  yoke  thy  manhood's  rights, 

Nor  feel  a  shudder  for  the  direst  hour ; 
But  like  a  world's  guardian  thou  dost  stand, 
Force  in  thy  face  and  strength  within  thy  hand  ! 


142  POEMS  FROM  THE  PACIFIC 


CONTEMPLATION   ON   THE   UXMAL   RUINS 

Approach  and  pause — there  is  a  feeling  here 

That  stifles  words  and  half  provokes  a  tear ; 

That  comes  abroad  with  wonder  overcast, 

And  coldly  points  to  a  mysterious  past ; 

Like  to  some  jewels  rare  whose  radiant  trace 

Loud  mocks  the  poor  dead  fingers  they  encase, 

Or  dungeon's  gloom  that  here  and  there  hath  won 

A  stream  of  light  from  some  far-distant  sun — 

So  these  strewn  fragments  pour  their  pregnant  rays, 

And  speak  of  distant  worlds  and  mightier  days, 

Of  vast  conditions  with  their  human  seas, 

Of  golden  cities  and  voluptuous  ease, 

When  was  the  pile  that  now  such  sadness  wings, 

The  awe  of  peoples  and  the  pride  of  kings. 

And  such  the  fall  that  even  nations  know, 
The  gilt  of  thrones  at  best  a  fleeting  show ; 
Thus  Life  and  Death  by  Time  are  borne  along, 
Keactions  each  of  Virtue  and  of  Wrong ; 
Pause  then  apace — the  place  is  all  a  grave ; 
The  sepulchre  of  sovereign  and  of  slave ; 
Here  pride  and  state  resolve  to  humble  dust 
The  toys  and  tools  of  luxury  and  lust, 
And  power  that  ersb  could  dazzle  and  dethrone 
Resigns  its  sceptre  to  a  crumbling  stone ! 


MISCELLANEOUS  143 

Is  this  the  finis  then  of  human  might, 
And  this  the  fall  from  man's  remotest  height, 
Proud  man,  who  loves  his  filmy  waifs  to  flaunt, 
Keplete  with  his  own  littleness  and  want? 
-Approach,  vain  god,  and  scan  this  emtpy  scroll ! 
And  earthiness  behold  thy  earthy  goal, 
The  consummation  of  a  common  lot, 
Alike  dismembered — and  alike  forgot ! 

Ah,  this  is  not  the  all  of  human  strife, 

'Tis  but  a  page,  and  not  the  book  of  life ! 

Oh !  God  of  Law !  we  bless  thee  for  the  text 

That  makes  this  world  a  preface  to  the  next ! 

A  pilgrimage  of  one  short  day  and  night, 

An  infant  school,  a  fledgling's  trial  flight, 

Where  Sense  can  catch  a  taste  of  Heaven's  sea, 

And  Mind  a  glimmer  of  the  vast  to  be, 

Yet  store  each  deed  and  thought  from  very  birth 

In  the  great  garner  of  immortal  worth! 


144  POEMS   FROM   THE   PACIFIC 


THE    WASTING   OF    THE   FLOWERS 

O,  the  scented  bright  flowers  by  the  wayside, 
That  smile  with  the  colors  of  spring ; 

What  slight  sunny  one  is  the  May-bride, 
And  which  shall  be  queen  of  the  king? 

O,  the  rosy,  the  pink,  and  the  starry, 

The  white  from  the  brow  of  a  nun ; 
Yea,  this  one  was  born  of  a  fair}', 

And  that  of  a  ray  of  the  sun! 

O,  quick  dewy  gems  of  the  morning, 

O,  pure  as  the  penitent's  tear, 
The  eye  of  the  fawn  has  had  warning, 

It  will  lose  by  comparison  here. 

O,  flowers  that  have  hope  and  ambition, 

The  wish  to  be  won  and  be  wed, 
Which  life  will  bring  fairest  fruition, 

And  which  bring  you  Sorrow  to  bed? 
The  flower-life  hath  sweet  without  measure, 

But  knows  not  its  sweet  from  alloy; 
But  soul-life  hath  pain  with  its  pleasure, 

The  test  and  the  index  of  joy. 


MISCELLANEOUS  145 

O,  flowers,  laughing  flowers  of  the  May-time, 

With  lips  that  were  posed  in  a  kiss, 
That  whisper  through  star-time  and  day-time 

Some  tremulous  story  of  bliss, 
Speak  now  to  an  ear  that  will  listen, — 

And  th'  breath-dew  was  warm  and  not  cold, 
The  deep  eyes  did  gladden  and  glisten, 

In  the  beautiful  hope  that  was  told. 

s 

50  the  flowers  in  great  faith  chose  that  being 
Where  hate  is  the  balance  of  love ; 

Where  joy  is  oft  courted  while  fleeing, 

And  the  eagle  oft  wed  to  the  dove ; 
0,  man,  thou  strong  lord  of  creation, 

What  sweet  grantest  thou  weaker  powers ; 
What  blessing  is  in  thy  relation, 

What  guardianship  for  the  flowers  ? 

51  vertu  est  mSprisee  done  laissez  nous  dormir* 

The  cold  black  earth  is  strewn  with  lily-leaves! 

The  air  with  spoils  of  fern ; 
What  woeful  shafts  despoil  the  flower-sheaves, 

And  the  sweet  lives  that  yearn  ? 
Alas,  the  wasted  buds  dislimbed  and  lorn, 

Their  scented  hope  and  fair  ambition  slain ; 
Alas,  the  virgin  blooms  tear- wrung  and  torn, 
That  seek  asylum  on  the  homeless  plain ! 

One  bright  sweet  morn  a  sweet,  bright  daisy  bloomed. 

Kissing  the  happy  air, 
And  all  the  vale  that  this  fair  life  perfumed, 

Rejoiced  it  was  so  fair ; 
(10) 


146  POEMS   FROM   THE   PACIFIC 

Alas,  at  eventide  the  sun  went  out, 

The  place  had  lost  its  gem, 

No  song  was  on  the  stifled  air  about, 
No  flower  upon  the  stem! 

Mayhap  some  tender  hand  transplanted  it 

To  gladden  other  skies, 
That  the  sweet  summer  time  its  light  had  lit, 

Might  smile  for  other  eyes ; 
Howbeit,  its  way  is  sprinkled  with  new  woe, 

Fair  leaves  are  cast  apart, 
And  Beauty's  feet  leave  red  stains  as  they  go, 

Leave  cries  as  from  the  heart! 

Alieni  temporis  floris ! 

O,  cruel  hands  that  tear  such  tender  limbs ! 
O,  impious  hands  that  desecrate  such  shrines ! 

Fair  God !  help  him  who  robs  the  life  he  dims — 
Dims  and  puts  out  till  it  no  longer  shines — 
Help  him  who  slays  and  stills  the  sunny  rhymes  I 

What  is  the  end  of  marriage — is  it  this  ? 

A  case  of  jewels  cast  upon  dead  air — 
A  song  hushed  death-wise  by  some  Judas'  kiss — 

A  flower  to  bury  in  a  savage  lair? 
Alas,  the  love-feast  and  the  start  of  Joy, 

Yea,  Love's  most  heavenly  burthen  of  quick  pain, 
Alas,  the  travailed  gift,  the  living  toy, 

A  light  of  life  but  lighted  to  be  slain  ! 

Yet  nurtured  with  unspoken  tenderness, 
A  slight,  frail  flower  nested  amid  flowers, 


MISCELLANEOUS 

Asylumed  beneath  arms  create  to  bless, 
And  surely  shield  with  sky-appointed  powers ; 

Each  thread  of  yellow  hair  numbered,  for  aye, 
Each  lisp  of  childish  love  construed  to  tune, 

While  patient  eyes  behold  the  bud  of  May 
Ripen  and  burst  into  the  flower  of  June. 

But  th'  cold  black  earth  is  strewn  with  lily-leaves, 

The  air  with  spoils  of  fern, 
Ancl  one  rejoiced,  but  now  one  sorely  grieves, 

And  many  grieve,  in  turn ; 

Alas,  the  wasted  flowers  dislimbed  and  lorn, 

Their  scented  hope  and  fair  ambition  slain, 

Alas,  the  virgin  blooms  tear- wrung  and  torn, 

That  seek  asylum  on  the  homeless  plain. 

Ah,  well  a  day,  where  are  the  tears  of  men, 

Where  Pity's  dwelling-place — 
Do  these  that  bleed  invoke  them  less  than  when 

Pink  smiles  are  on  their  face  ? 
O,  hard,  cold  eyes,  that  have  no  gentle  spark 

That  may  relent  a  little  and  be  kind, 
Is  there  no  mercy-ray  can  pierce  their  dark, 

No  tender  light  to  show  them  they  are  blind  ? 
Howbeit,  the  flowers  are  wasted  with  fierce  woe, 

Fair  leaves  are  cast  apart,  j 

And  Beauty's  feet  leave  red  stains  as  they  go, 

Leave  cries  as  from  the  heart ! 

Shame !  that  Earth's  beauteous  tendrils  should  be  born 

To  the  dread  fate  of  early  wanton  blight ; 
Shame !  that  the  rosy  blush  of  youthful  Morn 
Should  hide  beneath  the  craggy  brows  of  Night .  . 


147 


148  POEMS  FROM  THE  PACIFIC 

Oh !  Night !  reign  thou,  when  goddess  Strength  doth  reign, 
And  Weakness  cries  unto  the  blind,  deaf  Sea, 

When  tender  Innocence  doth  plead  in  vain 
But  for  the  grateful  privilege — to  be ! 

Poor,  ruined  blossoms  of  the  green,  glad  Spring,, 
Brought  premature  to  Winter's  bitter  end, 

Lo !  Death  shall  be  your  last  remorseless  sting, 
And  Heaven  prove  your  first  reposeful  friend. 
**##*#** 

But  doubt  not  that  who  despoil  these  flowers, 

Shall  take,  anon,  a  keen,  swift  tooth  to  heart, 
That  shall  cut  through  the  comfort  of  his  hours, 

And  cause  their  dry,  dead  blood  to  fright  and  start, 
And  tremble,  pale  and  red  upon  the  brow  .  . 

Yea,  Night  shall  cover  him  right  thankfully, 
Until  he  learn  the  mightiness  to  bow 

Before  the  righteous  Love  he  did  deny. 


MISCELLANEOUS 


"  WHERE  ROLLS  THE  OREGON" 


"  Or  lose  thyself  in  the  continuous  woods 
Where  rolls  the  Oregon,  an^  hears  no  sound 
Save  his  own  dasUings— yet  the  dead  are  there 
*    *    *    The  dead  reign  there  alone.  " 

BRYANT. 


Pine  scented  vales  and  verdure-mantled  hills, 
And  sweet  the  air  where  rolls  the  Oregon ! 

The  dead  no  longer  reign  alone !  they  came 
And  went,  the  Aztec  and  his  brother  red, 
Nor  in  the  chartless  woods  left  other  trace 
Than  dust  of  a  yellow  flower's  fading  bloom ! 
But  white  Sierra's  deathless  walls  remain, 
And  icy  spires  the  sky's  blue  vesture  breaks, 
Sublime  and  still  where  rolls  the  Oregon ! 

Mother  of  men !  O,  save  thy  later  born ! 

A  race  cornplexioned  like  thy  mountain  brows, 

And  sinewed  like  thy  rocky  hills  salutes  thee ! 

Above  the  dashings  of  the  resolute  sea 

A  new  sound  stirs;  the  roar  of  busy  wheels 

Acclaims  its  conquest  where  the  dead  speak  not, 

And  the  bronze  anvil  with  heroic  ring, 

Doth  melodise  the  breath  of  human  life. 

The  dead  ara  dead !  but  o'er  the  common  grave, 

Proud  Time  has  swept  with  singing  pinion, 


150  POEMS    FROM  THE   PACIFIC 

And  from  gray  dust  a  golden  grain  beams  back 
The  glory  of  the  sun,  and  milky  corn 
Waves  o'er  the  ashes  of  the  past.    Afar, 
Ripe  orchards  bow  with  purple  .pulp,  and  '  mid 
The  vine-clad  slopes,  and  by  tralucent  streams 
That  chant  soft  monodies  of  peace,  the  grazing 
Herd  meanders,  and  reposeful  hamlets, 
Sleek  with  the  thrift  of  fortunate  stars, 
Lie  nested  in  the  lap  of  odorous  pines. 


Lo !  here  the  men  of  forty-nine  have  come ! 
A  new  lord,  now,  with  yon  stark  skeleton 
Disputes  the  empire  of  the  West !  the  land 
Of  roseate  glades  where  rolls  the  Oregon ! 


MISCELLANEOUS  161 


YOSEMITE 

O,  eloquent  Earth!  this  thing  hath  delighted  thy  faca, 

Here  where  the  great  rocks  have  blossomed  in  passion  of  grac* 

Here  where  the  mountains  were  cleft  by  the  tread  of  the  snow , 

The  light  of  their  crowns  re-gemmed  in  the  lakelets  below : 

The  torrent  that  carved  out  the  hills  with  its  furious  flare, 

As  the  veil  of  a  bride  now  sways  in  the  tremulous  air, 

As  the  trail  of  a  ribbon  now  glints  o'er  yon  tolerant  plain, 

That  smiles  in  song  of  th'  sun  and  swells  to  th'  kiss  of  the  rain, 

Yea,  conflict  of  fire-gods  hath  ruptured  the  rocks  in  a  night, 

And  mountains  fell  and  arose  by  shock  of  the  fire-king's  might, 

And  domes  of  a  temple  of  God  of  all  gods  did  arise, 

To  fill  all  the  spaces  with  praise  from  the  seas  to  the  skies. 


152  POEMS  FROM  THE  PACIFIC 


LYRIC  OF  LABOR 

UPHABSIN   IS    WRIT   ON   THE    WALL! 

Let  us  raise  up  a  tocsin  of  warning, 

We  that  toil  on  the  shore  and  the  sea, 
Our  song  is  the  song  of  the  morning, 

And  our  theme  is  the  right  to  be  free ; 
The  light  of  the  sky  has  been  breaking, 

We  have  seen  what  the  clouds  had  in  thrall, 
The  tyrants  that  held  us  are  quaking, 

For  Upharsin  is  writ  on  the  wall ! 

We  toil  but  we  do  not  inherit, 

We  build  but  we  do  not  possess, 
The  flower  of  our  skill  and  our  merit 

Only  blossoms  for  others  to  bless, 
It  is  time  that  Right  cried  a  warning, 

That  Justice  had  thundered  her  call : 
Our  song  is  the  song  of  the  morning, 

And  Upharsin  is  writ  on  the  wall ! 

Sweet  freedom  is  ours  if  we  dare  it, 

Demand  it  with  resolute  will, 
And  the  gold  that  we  coin  we  shall  share  it, 

The  fruit  of  the  forge  and  the  mill; 
The  creators  of  wealth  cry  a  warning, 

A  new  hope  shines  forth  for  us  all : 
Our  song  is  the  song  of  the  morning, 

And  Upharsin  is  writ  on  the  wall ! 


A   TRINODY 


ABELARD    AND    HELOISE 
ANTONY   AND    CLEOPATRA 
PAOLO    AND    FRANCESCA 


A  TRINODY 

ABELARD  AND  HELOISE 

ABELARD 

"  Forget  to  love !  and  lose  the  love  of  thee ! 
Not  while  remains  a  sense  or  sign  of  me ; 
Not  for  the  boon  that  Christ  is  said  to  give, 
Not  without  thee  the  days  of  heaven  to  live  .  . 
Ah,  if  I  could  I'd  love  thee  something  less ; 
The  fear  that  I  may  loS3  thee  brings  distress, 
And  ofttimes  sickens  at  my  sick  heart's  roots, 
And  teaches  pain  the  lightning  of  its  shoots  .  . 
Lose  thee !  thy  lips,  love,  life,  thy  magic  touch! 
The  worship  that  I  pray  and  plead  so  much, 
Thy  fairy  feet  that  climb  about  my  heart, 
Thy  roseate  form  that  mocks  the  trace  of  art, 
Rather,  high  God,  I  would  I  had  not  been, 
Or  who  should  slay  me  would  commit  no  sin  .  . 
Thy  subtle  love  has  searched  my  utmost  life, 
And  made  thy  soul  my  soul's  immortal  wife, 
Until  whatever  of  rapture  fans  my  flame 
Is  needs  familiar  with  thy  sense  and  name  'f 
The  sun  less  warm  than  thy  benign  embrace, 
Music  less  sweet  than  language  of  thy  face, 
Nor  any  flower's  white,  glowing,  silken  nest, 
Can  plead  the  sweet  and  softness  of  thy  breast ; 
All  sweets  of  earth  't  were  idle  court  to  crave, 
For  in  the  gilt  of  thee  all  sweets  I  have !  " 


164  POEMS  FROM  THE  PACIFIC 

HELOISE 

11  What  thing  shall  dare  to  measure  what  thou  art? 
Love  has  made  thee  oceans  to  my  heart, 
And  marked  thee  with  the  juices  of  quick  wine, 
And  filled  the  heavens  with  thy  life  and  mine ! 
But  if  thou  go'st  away  where  will  I  go,    . 
Where  will  myipassion  rend  its  tortured  throe? 
Ah !  Love  has  made  for  thee  a  place  to  dwell, 
More  quick  with  life  than  earth  or  heaven  or  hell, 
And  taught  thy  touch  more  witcheries  of  sense 
Than  Summer  knows  with  all  her  vigilance ; 
I  do  not  fear  that  thou  wilt  hie  away, 
I  am  too  much  a  parcel  of  thy  day ; 
Have  stolen  through  and  slept  in  all  thy  veins, 
And  mingled  with  the  sources  of  thy  pains, 
Toyed  with  thy  love-thougtjis  as  with  silken  curls, 
Seeing  they  bore  the  faces  of  glad  girls, 
And  oh !  so  far  in  thy  life's  temple  stole, 
That  I  have  grown  a  portion  of  thy  soul !  " 


A  TRINODY  15T 


ANTONY  AND  CLEOPATRA 

ANTONY 

I  saw  light  burning  on  a  woman's  face ! 
And  chafing  '  neath  my  life  besought  the  place, 
Nor  asked  if  '  twas  the  sign  of  Death  or  Love — 
Gift  of  Osiris  or  our  father  Jove — 
That,  magnet  like,  attracted  with  fine  heat, 
'  Till  I  did  yield,  kissing  the  flames'  soft  feet ! 
"Pour  all  thy  vials,  love,  poisons  or  wines, 
If  the  sharp  vintage  of  thy  purple  vines, 
Charged  by  the  frenzied  alchemy  of  bliss, 
Drown  me  in  the  heavenly  abyss ! 
The  mad  excess  of  life — excess  of  thee ! 
The  meshes  and  the  measures  of  infinity !  " 

CLEOPATRA 

"  Ah !  Love  has  sprinkled  thee  with  such  delight 
My  languid  eyes  are  lost  to  other  sight.  . 
Now  as  I  see  thee  my  exultant  breast — 
In  softer  hours  oft  thy  Lethean  nest — 
Swelling  doth  welcome  thee ;  all  my  soul  aches 
For  thee,  joys  in  thee,  welcomes  thee,  and  takes 
The  familiar  channels  that  conduct  to  thee 
And  the  ripe  board  of  heavenly  agony.  .  . 


POEMS  FROM  THE  PACIFIC 

Sigh  yet  again,  sweet  lord !  I  feel  thy  breath 
As  the  warm  stories  of  a  summer  heath 
Whispered  to  mine :  my  veins  are  full  and  thine, 
Our  lips  do  homage  at  a  common  shrine, 
The  while  the  distilled  honey  of  thy  sighs— 
Soul-sighs  more  holy  sweet  than  paradise- 
Impregnates  like  a  poison  all  my  life, 
The  glow  of  love  and  passion  of  its  strife !  " 


A  TRINODY  159 


PAOLO  AND  FRANCESCA 

PAOLO 

In  summer  dreams  I  found  a  new  delight, 

And  stung  by  it  as  beauty  sMngs  the  sight, 

Fell  to  it  worshiping  ...  all  younger  signs 

Of  light  and  flowers  and  golden  rooted  wines, 

Smells  of  amorous  spring  and  sins  of  sense, 

Cleaving  apart  from  the  omnipotence  ! 

I  felt  the  first  born  breath  of  passion's  strife, 

The  traces  of  soft  feet  upon  my  life, 

And  touches  of  the  palpitating  stir 

Of  liquid  sighs  and  seasons  goodlier 

Than  throes  of  music  melting  on  the  wing, 

Or  the  wild  morn  when  bliss  first  knew  her  sting  ! 

From  the  sweet  meshes  of  the  perfect  hour, 

One  whose  precious  sex  was  her  first  power, 

Drew  nigh,  crowding  the  Bight  with  loveliness, 

And  my  rapt  being  with  a  sweet  distress : 

Oh,  fate !  may  I  but  touch  whereon  she's  trod! 

Thus  touching  an  abundance  of  good  God, 

Or  live  th'  ineane  existence  of  a  kiss! 

Or  die  because  of  wild  excess  of  bliss ! 

Feasting  this  joy  with  my  enhungered  gaze, 
Exhausted  sight  grew  vocal  in  her  praise, 


160  POEMS  FROM  THE  PACIFIC 

And  keen  desire's  young  and  luxurious  spur, 

Dared  the  approach  my  being  made  to  her : 

"  Whence  came — if  thither  thou  wilt  not  repair — 

Creature  of  light  and  love,  I  have  no  care : 

Perchance  thy  birthright  is  some  warm  white  star, 

Or  tender  scented  foam  flowers  that  are 

The  joys  of  voluptuous  bosomed  sea ! 

Whate'er  thou  art  a  heaven  art  thou  to  me, 

And  from  this  hour  my  life  my  heaven  or  hell, 

Or  sweet  oblivion  that  shall  drown  this  spell  ! 

O,  let  me  bask  in  thy  dear  witchery, 

Approach  thee  close,  this  wise,  and  worship  thee 

Beneath  th'  electric  fervor  of  thy  touch, 

For  sweet  Elysium  cannot  bless  so  much  : 

Thy  person  wears  the  smell  of  many  flowers ; 

Thy  moments  are  the  essence  of  great  hours  .  . 

Would  I  could  die  entangled  in  thy  toils, 

Surer  to  save  than  Nazareth's  sweated  spoils, 

Finding  contentment — if  thou  diest  too — 

And  bear  the  burden  of  thy  blisses  through." 

Like  the  intense  wooing  by  the  great  gold  sun 

Of  a  pink  moss  rose  I  wooed  and  won  .  . 

Obtained  the  treasury  of  a  look  from  her, 

A  pause  that  was  the  sublimest  minister 

That  e'er  converted  to  idolatry : 

And  pausing  she  did  hear  my  tell-tale  sigh, 

That  labored  deep  as  shell-loves  of  the  sea, 

Or  girl-loves  in  their  young  intensity ; 

And  read  the  frenzied  speeches  of  great  eyes, 

Fed  by  her  charms  as  by  a  paradise, 

And  knew  they  were  the  stories  of  love's  lyre, 

The  syllables  of  rapture  and  desire! 


A  TRINODY 

FRANCESCA 

"  Thou  hast  awaked  me  from  a  barren  dream, 
And  wild  emotions  taught  me  for  a  theme  ! 
O,  Life !  O,  lovely  contemplation  mine, 
I  see  the  years  flow  on  like  purple  wine, 
The  happy,  happy  years,  create  by  thee, 
Filled  with  our  glad,  our  dual  destiny !  .  . 
Aye,  for  this  life  to  which  thou  art  the  door, 
Which  life  thou  art  thyself  with  its  sweet  lore, 
I  wed  thee  to  my  very  inmost  heart, 
And  wear  thee  as  my  being's  warmest  part .  . 
O,  what  a  glorious  thing  art  thou  strange  lord, 
What  new  delights  thy  wondrous  words  afford : 
I'd  melt  with  tears  the  stony-hearted  powers, 
Were  there  an  end  to  thy  love  freighted  hours, 
Were  there  a  period  to  the  toils  that  yearn, 
Or  time  when  thy  soft  breathing  would  not  burn ! 
O,  great  sweet  Lord,  bless  thou  my  lord  and  I, 
At  this  proud  birth  of  our  eternity ! " 


THE  BIRTH  OF  SONG 


(165) 


THE  BIRTH  OF  SONG 


Out  of  the  voiceless  years, 
And  bitter  seasons  of  the  days  of  men, 
A  sudden  wondrous  thing  pipes  into  ears 
Untried  till  now  of  sweet  or  joy  .  .  as  when 
The  morning  stars  poured  forth  their  roundelays 

At  th'  birth- time  of  strange  days. 

II 

And  glad  are  they  that  hear  .  . 
The  first  that  listed  to  the  faint  first  tune 
That  broke  from  Silence  with  a  vivid  cheer, 
The  breath  of  Maia  and  the  voice  of  June, 
Wreathed  into  flowers  of  living  harmony, 

Afloat  from  sea  to  sky. 

Ill 

Joy  that  the  mute  shall  speak  .  . 
The  dumb,  dead,  barren  Earth,  arise  voice-given, 
To  join  the  planet-chorus  with  fierce  shriek 
Of  new  delight,  as  it  were  born  of  heaven — 
Yea,  the  fair  gods  rejoice  when  one  is  born 

With  song  from  out  the  morn  ! 


166  POEMS  FROM  THE  PACIFIC 

IV 

Joy  that  the  dead  have  life — 
That  waste,  torn,  bitter  shreds  of  clay  take  form, 
And  blush  in  travail  of  a  fruitful  strife, 
The  law  of  calm,  the  method  of  the  storm, 
Fair  token  of  a  Future  big  with  fate, 

And  Man's  soul-warmed  estate. 

v 

When  the  gr^at  sea  shall  pause, 
And  hie  within  herself  with  modest  mien  ; 
Nor  with  loud  lungs  proclaim  the  strength  that  was 
Above  the  use  that  is  .  .  and  she  is  seen 
In  ways  of  gentler  grace  and  calmer  power, 

As  she  were  near  her  hour — 

VI 

The  Venus-birth  of  Love — 
With  the  wide  East  afire  with  gold  and  white, 
And  sweet  warm  atmospheres  deep  interwove 
With  rosy  boys  and  flowers  of  crimson  light, 
And  vocal  with  the  sweet,  slight  song  that  she 

Hath  conjured  from  the  sea  ! 

VII 

And  sound  hath  found  new  voice — 
The  mermaid  choir,  the  sirens  of  th3  shore, 
With  softer-throated  rhetoric  rejoice, 
Where  Ocean  rude  affrighted  with  his  roar, 
And  fierce  curled  tongues  found  no  sweet  word  to  say 
In  the  dread  round  of  day. 


THE  BIRTH  OF  SONG  16? 

VIII 

And  man  who  had  come  forth 
Flowering  upon  the  hills  like  leaves  of  spring, 
Stood  still  as  he  had  stood  not  on  the  earth, 
Hearing  a  strange  fair  swan  in  God's  name  sing, 
Tender  and  low  yet  vivid  with  sweet  might, 

As  it  were  vocal  light  ! 

IX 

Stood  still  as  very  death.  . 
Awe-stricken  with  this  thing  that  Time  began.  . 
For  sound  had  not  essayed  with  gentler  breath 
Than  the  beast's  growl  or  growl  of  beastl}  man  ! 
But  now  he  spake  when  ceased  the  silver  rune 

With  voice  soft  like  the  tune  ! 

X 

And  in  his  valiant  eye — 

Whose  fire  was  from  the  angry  lightning  caught. 
Whose  only  culture  ere  the  beast  should  die, 
To  gaze  into  his  burning  eye-balls,  fraught 
With  rage  and  hell  and  death  withouten  fear — 

There  now  stood  forth  a  tear! 

XI 

A  sight  to  marvel  at 

Where  brows  were  woven  hard  in  a  steel  woof 
With  Night  for  shuttle ;  the  stout  web  begat 
Where  cold  and  tempest  interwed  aloof, 
Afore  the  fountains  of  the  soul  took  form, 

Sparkling  from  out  the  storm. 


108  POEMS  FROM  THE  PACIFIC 

XII 

Or  where  men  toiled,  forsooth, 
And  wrestled  wretchedly  in  harsh  stern  ways, 
This  sweet  stole  forth  the  venom  of  Toil's  tooth , 
And  merry  made  the  heart  of  heavy  days, 
As  from  the  curtain  of  the  radiant  sky,    • 

Quick  colors  kissed  the  eye ! 

XIII 

Yea,  God  wot,  some  sweet  thing, 
Hath  tamed  the  dark,  dire  temper  fetched  from  hell, 
And  where  the  scepter  stormed  a  gentle  string, 
Pours  trembling  forth  its  overweening  spell, 
Caught  of  some  sounds  the  swaet  God's  breath  did  leaven ' 

Deep  in  the  throat  of  heaven. 

XIV 

And  no  brass  chain  like  this, 
The  panther's  lair  can  hold  hard  fast  and  true, 
Or  make  the  leopard's  eye  the  thing  to  kiss, 
Or  Lea's  neck  the  place  where  pleasure  grew, 
As  in  the  meshes  of  his  mighty  curls, 

There  nested  blue-eyed  girls ! 

XV 

For  now  a  new  sense  came, 
And  hearmg  was  there  where  none  hoard  before ; 
Fair  heaven's  arch  resounded  with  a  flame, 
That  awed  earth  with  its  palpitating  lore, 
The  voice  of  Israfil  or  Syrinx  reed, 

That  erst  no  ear  gave  heed. 


THE  BIRTH  OF  SONG  169 

XVI 

Yea,  now,  the  great  god  Pan, 
From  his  split  hoof  of  clay  to  th'  celestial  brow, 
Radiant  with  stars  and  suns  is  known  to  man ; 
Yea,  now,  his  seven  wondrous  spells  aglow, 
Streamed  from  the  singing  bosoms  of  the  skies, 

Blending  in  sweet  surprise. 

XVII 

Thus  had  th'  immortal  gods, 
Been  filled  and  feasted  with  harmonious  wine, 
New  ears  now  list  the  soul-entrancing  rods, 
The  later  god  invokes  the  heavenly  Nine, 
And  to  Olympus  linked  hymns  deep  and  long — 

The  worship  born  of  song ! 

XVIII 

And  to  the  leaping  strain, 
Forth  from  the  joyous  vale  and  jocund  wood, 
With  Ceres  and  the  Vine-god  in  tho  train, 
Dance  the  delighted  nymphs  in  rosy  mood ; 
Camilla's  feet  not  lighter  sped  the  corn, 

Than  these  from  morn  to  morn. 

XIX 

All  Nature  fair  rejoiced, 
With  quick  fecundity  through  all  her  veins ; 
The  feathered  tribes  a-chorus  hap"py-voiced, 
Atuned  their  eager  nestlings  to  the  strains, 
The  sheep's  lean  dugs  with  fresh  milk  filled  anew, 

Glad'ning  the  shepherd's  view. 


170  I'OEMS  FROM  THE  PACIFIC 

XX 

And  lo !    in  Illus'  land, 
Some  hardy  men  a  city  well  desired, 
That  laughing  scorned  the  toil  of  each  vain  hand: 
But  now  the  dead  stones  moved  as  they  were  fired 
By  some  God's  breath,  and  each  in  lusty,  chase, 

Climbed,  singing,  to  his  place 

XXI 

With  light  ecstatic  bound; 

Nor  with  rude  fronts  with  unshorn  locks  afright, 
But  smooth  and  fair  Dardanus  rose,  and  round, 
Glad  wing-ed  walls  encompassed  her  with  might, 
And  men  rejoiced  in  her — wrought  free  of  hire — 

Sweet  labor  of  the  lyre ! 

XXII 

Hark,  now,  upon  the  air, 
"  lo  Psean  "  deep  in  the  East's  bright  lap, 
Acclaimed  from  lusty  throats,  or  brown  or  fair, 
And  "  lo,  "  lordlier  still,  as  o'er  the  gap, 
Beside  bright  Hesper  Phoebus  blushed  away.  . 

"  lo  "  throughout  the  day  ! 

XXIII 

And  to  the  night's  breath  given, 
Impassioned  with  loud  unisons  that  move 
The  star  courts  of  propitiating  heaven.  . 
Until  responsive  to  the  hymn  of  love, 
Tne  god's  celestial  sister  with  soft  zest 

Beams  melodies  of  rest. 


THE  BIRTH  OF  SONG  171 

XXIV 

And  thou  art  wise,  thou  Song, 
The  dangers  of  the  deep  of  sin  are  passed 
With  thy  transporting  compass  swift  and  strong, 
Each  gold-lipped  siren  unto  silence  cast, 
Outsung  by  one  that  conquereth  the  sea — 

More  eloquent  than  she ! 

XXV 

And  to  the  Orphic  strain 
The  serpent  basked  a-listening ;   the  roar 
Of  the  free  beast  was  hushed  as  Vesta's  fane ; 
And  as  Apollo's  son  twixt  either  shore 
Winged  his  ecstatic  lyre,  the  leafy  wood, 

Enamored  of  the  mood, 

XXVI 

Moved  headlong  with  smooth  stride; 
And  the  pliant  streams  their  laggard  beds  o'erstepped 
To  follow  the  meandering  limpid  tide 
Of  tune,  as  musical  as  he  that  crept 
From  Psean,  vanquished,  Marsyas  of  old, 

Babbling  o'er  keys  of  gold ! 

XXVII 

Or  in  the  nether  hell, 
Lo,  the  untried  miracle  of  music  sweet ! 
Imprisoning  the  prison  by  his  spell, 
Till  all  the  place  lay  prone  beside  his  feet, 
Till  the  will  of  ebony-crowned  Dis  was  made 

The  will  of  him  that  played  ! 


172  POEMS  FROM  THE  PACIFIC 

XXVIII 

Till  all  forgot  their  pains, 
And  mocking  labors  of  untiring  woe, 
Typhoeus'  burthens  or  ./Egean's  «.  hains, 
And  Eurydice  with  sweet  leave  to  go, 
Fired  with  fierce  hope  pursued  the  strain  of  fire — 

Glad  victory  of  the  lyre ! 

XXIX 

And  so  pursued  all  men 

The  stream  that  bore  the  wing-ed  fruit  of  song! 
By  the  mirthful  shore  of  vocal  Helicon, 
Where  Philomela  poured  her  flood  along, 
To  Amphion's  song-built  Thebes  where  Memnon's  voice 

The  bright  dawn  made  rejoice! 

XXX 

And  for  song's  highest  reach, 
One  was  awakened  on  Parnassus'  side, 
To  sing  of  Troy  o'er  all  the  lords  of  speech ! 
The  Nine  gave  him  the  harp  to  Thamyras  denied, 
And  he  to  Earth  the  key  to  harmony — 

To  tune  its  voices  by. 


YB   14432 


